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UNKNOWN   TO    HISTORY 


UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY 

A  STORY  OF  THE 
CAPTIVITY  OE  MARY  OF  SCOTLAND 


BY 

CHARLOTTE   M.  YONGE 


Poor  scape-goat  of  crimes,  where, — her  part  what  it  uiay, 

So  tortured,  so  limited  to  die, 

Foul  age  of  deceit  and  of  liate, — on  her  head 

Least  stains  of  gore-guiltiness  lie  ; 

To  the  liearts  of  the  just  her  blood  from  the  dust 

Not  in  vain  for  mercy  will  cry. 

Poor  scajie-goat  of  nations  and  faiths  in  their  strife^ 

Bo  cruel, — and  thou  so  lair ! 

Poor  girl !— so,  best,  in  her  misery  named, — 

Discrown'd  of  two  kiiiLdonis,  and  bare  ; 

Not  first  nor  last  on  tliis  one  was  cast 

The  burden  that  others  should  share. 

Visions  of  England,  by  V.  T.  Palqravr. 


MACMILLAN   AND   CO. 
1884. 


PREFACE. 

In  p.  58  of  vol.  ii.  of  the  second  edition  of  Mis3 
Strickland's  Life,  of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots,  or  p.  100, 
vol.  V.  of  Burton's  History  of  Scotland,  will  be  found 
the  report  on  which  this  tale  is  founded. 

If  circumstances  regarding  the  Queen's  captivity 
and  Babington's  plot  have  been  found  to  be  omitted, 
as  well  as  many  interesting  personages  in  the  suite  of 
the  captive  Queen,  it  must  be  rememljered  that  the 
art  of  the  story-teller  makes  it  needful  to  curtail 
some  of  the  incidents  which  would  render  the  nar- 
rative too  complicated  to  be  interesting  to  those  who 
wish  more  for  a  view  of  noted  characters  in  remark- 
able situations,  than  for  a  minute  and  accurate  siftins 
of  facts  and  evidence, 

C.  M.  YOXGE. 

February  27,  18Hi. 


CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  I. 

P40E 

The  Little  Waif 1 

CHAPTER  n. 
Evil  Tidings 17 

CHAPTER  III. 
The  Captive 33 

CHAPTER   IV. 
The  Oak  and  the  Oaken  Hall        ...         .         .46 

CHAPTER  V. 

The  Huckstering  Woman        .         .         ,         .         .61 

CHAPTER  VI. 
The  Bewitched  Whistle 72 

CHAPTER  VII. 
The  Blast  of  the  Whistle 81 


VIU  CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

PAQB 

The  Key  of  the  CirHER  ......       97 


CHAPTER  IX. 
Unquiet ,        .     105 

CHAPTER  X. 
The  Lady  Aebell    ....  .        ,     118 

CHAPTER  XL 
Queen  Mary's  Presence  Chamber  ....     126 

CHAPTER  XII. 
A  Furious  Letter  .         .         .         .        .         .         .     141 

CHAPTER  XIIL 
Beads  and  Bracelets 153 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
The  Monograms 165 

CHAPTER  XV. 
Mother  AND  Child  .         .         .         .         .         .         .     178 

CHAPTER*,  XVI. 
The  Peak  Cavern 200 

CHAPTER  XVIL 
The  EBJiiNG  Well 222 


CONTENTS.  ix 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

PAOS 

Cis  OR  Sister 243 

CHAPTER   XIX. 
The  Clash  of  Swords 256 

CHAPTER  XX. 
WiNGFiELD  Manor 274 

CHAPTER  XXI. 
A  Tangle 290 

CHAPTER  XXII. 
TUTBURY 302 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 
The  Love  Token 313 

CHAPTER  XXIY. 
A  Lioness  at  Bay    ....  .         .     324 

CHAPTER  XXV. 
Paul's  Walk 336 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 
In  the  Web 348 

CHAPTER  XXVn. 
The  Castle  Well 358 


X  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

PAGB 

Hunting  down  the  Deer 365 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 
The  Search 376 

CHAPTER  XXX. 
Tete-a-Tete 391 

CHAPTER  XXXI. 
Evidence •         .     405 

CHAPTER  XXXIL 
Westminster  Hall 413 

CHAPTER  XXXIIL 
In  THE  Tower 422 

CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

FOTHERINGHAY 438 

CHAPTER  XXXV. 
Before  the  Commissioners 452 

CHAPTER  XXXVI. 
A  Venture 465 

CHAPTER  XXXVII. 
My  Lady's  Remorse 474 


CONTENTS.  X] 

CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

PAGB 

Master  Talbot  and  his  Chaege      ....     488 

CHAPTER  XXXIX. 
The  Fetterlock  Court   ......     498 

CHAPTER  XL. 
The  Sentence 607 

CHAPTER  XLI. 
Her  Royal  Highness 523 

CHAPTER  XLII. 
The  Supplication 634 

CHAPTER  XLIII. 
The  Warrant 648 

CHAPTER   XLIV. 
On  the  Humber 66:2 

CHAPTER   XLV. 
Ten  Years  after 583 


UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY. 

CHAPTEE  I. 

THE   LITTLE   WAIF. 

On  a  spring  day,  in  the  year  1568,  Mistress  Talbot  sat 
in  her  lodging  at  Hull,  an  upper  chamber,  with  a  large 
latticed  window,  glazed  with  the  circle  and  diamond 
leading  perpetuated  in  Dutch  pictures,  and  opening  ou 
a  carved  balcony,  whence,  had  she  been  so  minded,  she 
could  have  shaken  hands  with  her  opposite  neighbour. 
There  was  a  riclily  carved  mantel-piece,  with  a  sea-coal 
fire  burning  in  it,  for  though  it  was  May,  the  sea 
winds  blew  cold,  and  there  was  a  fishy  odour  about 
the  town,  such  as  it  was  well  to  counteract.  The  floor 
was  of  slippery  polished  oak,  the  walls  hung  with 
leather,  gilded  in  some  places  and  depending  from 
cornices,  whose  ornaments  proved  to  an  initiated  eye, 
that  this  had  once  been  the  refectory  of  a  small  priory, 
or  cell,  broken  up  at  the  Eeformation. 

Of  furniture  there  was  not  much,  only  an  open 
cupboard,  displaying  two  silver  cups  and  tankards,  a 
sauce -pan  of  the  same  metal,  a  few  tall,  slender, 
Venetian  glasses,  a  little  pewter,  and  some  rare  shells. 
A  few   high  -  backed   chairs  were  ranged  against   the 


2  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

wall;  there  was  a  tall  "  armory,"  i.e.  a  linen-press  of  dark 
oak,  guarded  on  each  side  by  the  twisted  weapons  of 
the  sea  unicorn,  and  in  the  middle  of  the  room  stood 
a  large,  solid-looking  table,  adorned  with  a  brown 
earthenware  beau-pot,  containing  a  stiff  posy  of  roses, 
southernwood,  gillyflowers,  pinks  and  pansies,  of 
small  dimensions.  On  hooks,  against  the  wall,  hung  a 
pair  of  spurs,  a  shield,  a  breastplate,  and  other  pieces 
of  armour,  with  an  open  helmet  bearing  the  dog,  the 
well-known  crest  of  the  Talbots  of  the  Shrewsbury  line. 

On  the  polished  floor,  near  the  window,  were  a 
child's  cart,  a  little  boat,  some  whelks  and  limpets. 
Their  owner,  a  stout  boy  of  three  years  old,  in  a  tight, 
borderless, round  cap,and  home-spun, madder-dyed  frock, 
lay  fast  asleep  in  a  big  wooden  cradle,  scarcely  large 
enough,  however,  to  contain  him,  as  he  lay  curled  up, 
sucking  his  thumb,  and  hugging  to  his  breast  the  soft 
fragment  of  a  sea-bird's  downy  breast.  If  he  stirred,  his 
mother's  foot  was  on  the  rocker,  as  she  sat  spinning, 
but  her  spindle  danced  languidly  on  the  floor,  as  if 
"feeble  was  her  hand,  and  silly  her  thread;"  while  she 
listened  anxiously  for  every  sound  in  the  street  below. 
She  wore  a  dark  blue  dress,  with  a  small  lace  ruff 
opening  in  front,  deep  cuffs  to  match,  and  a  white  apron 
likewise  edged  with  lace,  and  a  coif,  bent  down  in  the 
centre,  over  a  sweet  countenance,  matronly,  though 
youthful,  and  now  full  of  wistful  expectancy,  not 
untinged  with  anxiety  and  sorrow. 

Susan  Hardwicke  was  a  distant  kinswoman  of 
the  famous  Bess  of  Hardwicke,  and  had  formed  one 
of  the  little  court  of  gentlewomen  with  whom  great 
ladies  were  wont  to  surround  themselves.  There  she 
met  Eichard  Talbot,  the  second  son  of  a  relative  of  the 
Earl  of  Shrewsbury,  a  young  man  who,  with  the  in- 


I.]  THE  LITTLE  WAIF.  3 

difference  of  those  days  to  service  by  land  or  sea,  had 
been  at  one  time  a  gentleman  pensioner  of  Queen 
Mary ;  at  another  had  sailed  under  some  of  the  great 
mariners  of  the  western  main.  There  he  had  acquired 
substance  enough  to  make  the  offer  of  his  hand  to  the 
dowerless  Susan  no  great  imprudence ;  and  as  neitlier 
could  be  a  subject  for  ambitious  plans,  no  obstacle 
was  raised  to  their  wedding. 

He  took  his  wife  home  to  his  old  father's  house  in 
the  precincts  of  Sheffield  Park,  where  she  was  kindly 
welcomed ;  but  wealth  did  not  so  abound  in  the  family 
but  that,  when  opportunity  offered,  he  was  thankful 
to  accept  the  command  of  the  Mastiff,  a  vessel  com- 
missioned by  Queen  Elizabeth,  but  built,  manned,  and 
maintained  at  the  expense  of  the  Earl  of  Shrewsbury. 
It  formed  part  of  a  small  squadron  which  was  cruising 
on  the  eastern  coast  to  watch  over  the  intercourse 
between  France  and  Scotland,  whether  in  the  interest 
of  the  imprisoned  Mary,  or  of  the  Lords  of  the  Congre- 
gation. He  had  obtained  lodgings  for  Mistress  Susan 
at  Hull,  so  that  he  might  be  with  her  when  he  put 
into  harbour,  and  she  was  expecting  him  for  the  first 
time  since  the  loss  of  their  second  child,  a  daughter 
whom  he  had  scarcely  seen  during  her  little  life  of  a 
few  months. 

Morefvcr,  there  had  been  a  sharp  storm  a  few  days 
previously,  and  experience  had  nob  hardened  her  to 
the  anxieties  of  a  sailor's  wife.  Slie  had  been  down 
once  already  to  the  quay,  and  learnt  all  that  the  old 
sailors  could  tell  her  of  chances  and  conjectures ;  and 
when  her  boy  began  to  fret  from  hunger  and  weariness, 
she  had  left  her  serving- man,  Gervas,  to  watch  for 
further  tidings.  Yet,  so  does  one  trouble  drive  out 
another,  that  whereas  she  had  a  few  days  ago  dreaded 


4  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

the  sorrow  of  his  return,  she  would  now  have  given 
worlds  to  hear  his  step. 

Hark,  what  is  that  in  the  street  ?  Oh,  folly  !  If 
the  Mastiff  were  in,  would  not  Gervas  have  long  ago 
brought  her  the  tidings  ?  Should  she  look  over  the  bal- 
cony only  to  be  disappointed  again  ?  Ah !  she  had  been 
prudent,  for  the  sounds  were  dying  away.  Nay,  there 
was  a  foot  at  the  door  !  Gervas  with  ill  news  !  No, 
no,  it  bounded  as  never  did  Gervas's  step !  It  was 
coming  up.  She  started  from  the  chair,  quivering  with 
eagerness,  as  the  door  opened  and  in  hurried  her  sun- 
tanned sailor !  She  was  in  his  arms  in  a  trance  of 
joy.  That  was  all  she  knew  for  a  moment,  and  then, 
it  was  as  if  something  else  were  given  back  to  her. 
No,  it  was  not  a  dream  !  It  was  substance.  In  her 
arms  was  a  little  swaddled  baby,  in  her  ears  its  feeble 
wail,  mingled  with  the  glad  shout  of  little  Humfrey,  as 
he  scrambled  from  the  cradle  to  be  uplifted  in  his 
father's  arms. 

"  What  is  this  ?"  she  asked,  gazing  at  the  infant 
between  terror  and  tenderness,  as  its  weak  cry  and 
exhausted  state  forcibly  recalled  the  last  hours  of  her 
own  child. 

"  It  is  the  only  thing  we  could  save  from  a  wreck 
off"  the  Spurn,"  said  her  husband.  "  Scottish  as  I  take 
it.  The  rogues  seem  to  have  taken  to  their  boats, 
leaving  behind  them  a  poor  woman  and  her  child.  I 
trust  they  met  their  deserts  and  were  swamped.  We 
saw  the  fluttering  of  her  coats  as  we  made  for  the 
Humber,  and  I  sent  Goatley  and  Jaques  in  the  boat 
to  see  if  anything  lived.  The  poor  wench  was  gone 
before  they  could  lift  her  up,  but  the  little  one 
cried  lustily,  though  it  has  waxen  weaker  since.  We  had 
no  milk  on  board,  and  could  only  give  it  bits  of  soft 


l]  the  little  waif.  5 

bread  soaked  in  beer,  and  I  misdoubt  me  whether  it 
did  not  all  rim  out  at  the  corners  of  its  mouth." 

This  was  interspersed  with  little  Humfrey's  eager 
outcries  that  little  sister  was  come  again,  and  Mrs. 
Talbot,  the  tears  running  down  her  cheeks,  hastened  to 
summon  her  one  woman-servant,  Colet,  to  bring  the 
porringer  of  milk. 

Captain  Talbot  had  only  hurried  ashore  to  bring 
the  infant,  and  show  himself  to  his  wife.  He  was 
forced  instantly  to  return  to  the  wharf,  but  he  pro- 
mised to  come  back  as  soon  as  he  should  have  taken 
order  for  his  men,  and  for  the  Mastiff,  which  had 
suffered  considerably  in  the  storm,  and  would  need  to 
be  refitted. 

Colet  hastily  put  a  manchet  of  fresh  bread,  a  pasty, 
and  a  stoup  of  wine  into  a  basket,  and  sent  it  by  her 
husband,  Gervas,  after  their  master  ;  and  then  eagerly 
assisted  her  mistress  in  coaxing  the  infant  to  swallow 
food,  and  in  removing  the  soaked  swaddling  clothes 
which  the  captain  and  liis  crew  had  not  dared  to 
meddle  with. 

When  Captain  Talbot  returned,  as  the  rays  of  the 
setting  sun  glanced  high  on  the  roofs  and  chimneys, 
little  Humfrey  stood  peeping  through  the  tracery  of 
the  balcony,  watching  for  him,  and  shrieking  with  joy 
at  the  first  glimpse  of  the  sea-bird's  feather  in  his  cap. 
The  spotless  home-spun  cloth  and  the  trenchers  were 
laid  for  supper,  a  festive  capon  was  prepared  by  the 
choicest  skill  of  Mistress  Susan,  and  the  little  ship- 
wrecked stranger  lay  fast  asleep  in  the  cradle. 

All  was  well  with  it  now,  Mrs.  Talbot  said.  Nothing 
had  ailed  it  but  cold  and  hunger,  and. when  it  had 
been  fed,  warmed,  and  dressed,  it  had  fallen  sweetly 
asleep  in  her  arms,  appeasing  her  heartache  for  her 


6  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

own  little  Sue,  while  Humfrey  fully  believed  that 
father  had  brought  his  little  sister  back  again. 

The  child  was  in  truth  a  girl,  apparently  three  or 
four  months  old.  She  had  been  rolled  up  in  Mrs, 
Talbot's  baby's  clothes,  and  her  own  long  swaddling 
bands  hung  over  the  back  of  a  chair,  where  they  hud 
been  dried  before  the  fire.  They  were  of  the  finest 
woollen  below,  and  cambric  above,  and  the  outermost 
were  edged  with  lace,  whose  quality  Mrs.  Talbot  esti- 
mated very  highly. 

"  See,"  she  added,  "  what  we  found  within.  A 
Popish  relic,  is  it  not  ?  Colet  and  Mistress  Gale  were 
for  making  away  with  it  at  once,  but  it  seemed  to  me 
that  it  was  a  token  whereby  the  poor  babe's  friends  may 
know  her  again,  if  she  have  any  kindred  not  lost  at  sea." 

The  token  was  a  small  gold  cross,  of  peculiar  work- 
mansl^p,  with  a  crystal  in  the  middle,  through  which 
might  be  seen  some  mysterious  object  neither  husband 
nor  wife  could  make  out,  but  which  they  agreed  must 
be  carefully  preserved  for  the  identification  of  their 
little  waif.  Mrs.  Talbot  also  produced  a  strip  of  writing 
which  she  had  found  sewn  to  the  inmost  band  wrapped 
round  the  little  body,  but  it  had  no  superscription,  and 
she  believed  it  to  be  either  French,  Latin,  or  High 
Dutch,  for  she  could  make  nothing  of  it.  Indeed,  the 
good  lady's  education  had  only  included  reading,  writ- 
ing, needlework  and  cookery,  and  she  knew  no  language 
but  her  own.  Her  husband  had  been  taught  Latin, 
but  his  acquaintance  with  modern  tongues  was  of 
the  nautical  order,  and  entirely  oral  and  vernacular. 
However,  it  enabled  him  to  aver  that  the  letter — if 
such  it  were— 7- was  neither  Scottish,  French,  Spanish, 
nor  High  or  Low  Dutch.  He  looked  at  it  in  all  direc- 
tions, and  shook  his  head  over  it. 


l]  the  little  waif.  7 

"Who  can  read  it  for  us?"  asked  Mrs.  Talbot. 
'*  Shall  we  ask  Master  Heatherthwayte  ?  he  is  a  scholar, 
and  he  said  he  would  look  in  to  see  how  you  fared." 

"At  supper-time,  I  trow,"  said  Eichard,  rather 
grimly,  "  the  smell  of  thy  stew  will  bring  him  down 
in  good  time." 

"  Nay,  dear  sir,  I  thought  you  would  be  fain  to  see 
the  good  man,  and  he  lives  but  poorly  in  his  garret." 

"  Scarce  while  he  hath  good  wives  like  thee  to  boil 
his  pot  for  him,"  said  Eichard,  smiling.  "  Tell  me, 
hath  he  heard  anght  of  this  gear?  thou  hast  not  laid 
this  scroll  before  him  ?" 

"  No,  Colet  brought  it  to  me  only  now,  having 
found  it  when  washing  the  swaddling-bands,  stitched 
into  one  of  them." 

"  Then  hark  thee,  good  wife,  not  one  word  to  him 
of  the  writing." 

"Might  he  not  interpret  it  ?" 

"  Not  he  !  I  must  know  more  about  it  ere  I  let  it 
pass  forth  from  mine  hands,  or  any  strange  eye  fall 
upon  it — Ha,  in  good  time!  I  hear  his  step  on  the  stair." 

The  captain  hastily  rolled  up  the  scroll  and  put  it 
into  his  pouch,  while  Mistress  Susan  felt  as  if  she  had 
made  a  mistake  in  her  hospitality,  yet  almost  as  if  her 
husband  were  unjust  towards  the  good  man  who  had 
been  such  a  comfort  to  her  in  her  sorrow ;  but  there 
was  no  lack  of  cordiality  or  courtesy  in  Eichard's 
manner  when,  after  a  short,  quick  knock,  there  en- 
tered a  figure  in  hat,  cassock,  gown,  and  bands,  with  a 
pleasant,  though  grave  counteuance,  the  complexion 
showing  that  it  had  been  tanned  and  sunburnt  in 
early  youth,  although  it  wore  later  traces  of  a  sedentary 
student  life,  and,  it  might  be,  of  less  genial  living  than 
had  nourished  the  up-growthof  that  sturdily-built  frima 


8  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

Master  Joseph  Heatherthwayte  was  the  greatly 
underpaid  curate  of  a  small  parish  on  the  outskirts  of 
Hull.  He  contrived  to  live  on  some  £  1 0  per  annum  in 
the  attic  of  the  house  where  the  Talbots  lodged, — and 
not  only  to  live,  but  to  be  full  of  charitable  deeds,  mostly 
at  the  expense  of  his  own  appetite.  The  square  cut  of 
his  bands,  and  the  uncompromising  roundness  of  the  hat 
which  he  dolfed  on  his  entrance,  marked  him  as  inclined 
to  the  Puritan  party,  which,  being  that  of  apparent  pro- 
gress, attracted  most  of  the  ardent  spirits  of  the  time. 

Captain  Talbot's  inclinations  did  not  lie  that  way, 
but  he  respected  and  liked  his  fellow-lodger,  and  his 
vexation  had  been  merely  the  momentary  disinclina- 
tion of  a  man  to  be  interrupted,  especially  on  his  first 
evening  at  home.  He  responded  heartily  to  Master 
Heatherthwayte's  warm  pressure  of  the  hand  and 
piously  expressed  congratulation  on  his  safety,  mixed 
with  condolence  on  the  giief  that  had  befallen  him. 

"And  you  have  been  a  good  friend  to  my  poor 
wife  in  her  sorrow,"  said  Eichard,  "for  the  which  I 
thank  you  heartily,  sir." 

"  Truly,  sir,  I  could  have  been  her  scholar,  with 
such  edifying  resignation  did  she  submit  to  the  dis- 
pensation," returned  the  clergyman,  uttering  these  long 
words  in  a  broad  northern  accent  which  had  nothing 
incongruous  in  it  to  Eichard's  ears,  and  taking  advan- 
tage of  the  lady's  absence  on  "  hospitable  tasks  intent " 
to  speak  in  her  praise. 

Little  Humfrey,  on  his  father's  knee,  comprehend- 
ing that  they  were  speaking  of  the  recent  sorrow,  put 
in  his  piece  of  information  that  "  father  had  brought 
little  sister  back  from  the  sea." 

"Ah,  child!"  said  Master  Heath erth way te,  in  the 
ponderous  tone  of  one  unused  to  children,  "thDu  hast 


I.]  THE  LITTLE  WAIF.  9 

yet  to  learn  the  words  of  the  holy  David,  '  I  shall  go 
to  him,  but  he  shall  not  return  to  me.' " 

"  Bring  not  that  thought  forward,  Master  Heather- 
thwayte,"  said  Eichard,  "  I  am  well  pleased  that  my 
poor  wife  and  this  little  lad  can  take  the  poor  little 
one  as  a  solace  sent  them  by  God,  as  she  assuredly  is." 

"  Mean  you,  then,  to  adopt  her  into  your  family  ? " 
asked  the  minister. 

"  We  know  not  if  she  hath  any  kin,"  said  Eichard, 
and  at  that  moment  Susan  entered,  followed  by  the 
man  and  maid,  each  bearing  a  portion  of  the  meal, 
which  was  consumed  by  the  captain  and  the  clergy- 
man as  thoroughly  hungry  men  eat ;  and  there  was 
silence  till  the  capon's  bones  were  bare  and  two  large 
tankards  had  been  filled  with  Xeres  sack,  captured  in  a 
Spanish  ship,  "  the  only  good  thing  that  ever  came 
from  Spain,"  quoth  the  sailor. 

Then  he  began  to  tell  how  he  had  weathered  the 
storm  on  the  Berwickshire  coast ;  but  he  was  inter- 
rupted by  another  knock,  followed  by  the  entrance  of 
a  small,  pale,  spare  man,  with  the  lightest  possible 
hair,  very  short,  and  almost  invisible  eyebrows ;  he 
had  a  round  ruff  round  his  neck,  and  a  black,  scholarly 
gown,  belted  round  his  waist  with  a  girdle,  in  which 
he  carried  writing  tools. 

"  Ha,  Cuthbert  Langston,  art  thou  there  ? "  said  the 
captain,  rising.  "  Thou  art  kindly  welcome.  Sit  down 
and  crush  a  cup  of  sack  with  Master  Heatherthwayte 
and  me." 

"  Thanks,  cousin,"  returned  the  visitor,  "  I  heard 
that  the  Mastiff  was  come  in,  and  I  came  to  see 
whether  all  was  well." 

"  It  was  kindly  done,  lad,"  said  Eichard,  while  the 
others  did  their  part  of  the  welcome,  though  scarcely 


10  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

SO  willingly.  Ciithbert  Langston  was  a  distant  relation 
on  the  mother's  side  of  Eichard,  a  young  scholar  who, 
after  his  education  at  Oxford,  had  gone  abroad  with  a 
nobleman's  son  as  his  pupil,  and  on  his  return,  instead 
of  taking  Holy  Orders,  as  was  expected,  had  obtained 
employment  in  a  merchant's  counting-house  at  Hull, 
for  which  his  knowledge  of  languages  eminently  fitted 
him.  Though  he  possessed  none  of  the  noble  blood  of 
the  Talbots,  the  employment  was  thought  by  Mistress 
Susan  somewhat  derogatory  to  the  family  dignity,  and 
there  was  a  strong  suspicion  both  in  her  mind  and 
that  of  Master  Heatherthwayte  that  his  change  of 
purpose  was  due  to  the  change  of  religion  in  England, 
although  he  was  a  perfectly  regular  church  -  goer. 
Captain  Talbot,  however,  laughed  at  all  this,  and, 
though  he  had  not  much  in  common  with  his  kinsman, 
alway^reated  him  in  a  cousinly  fashion.  He  too  had 
heard  a  rumour  of  the  foundling,  and  made  inquiry  for 
it,  upon  which  Eichard  told  his  story  in  greater  detail, 
and  his  wife  asked  what  the  poor  mother  was  Eke. 

"  I  saw  her  not,"  he  answered,  "  but  Goatley 
thought  the  poor  woman  to  whom  she  was  bound 
more  like  to  be  nurse  than  mother,  judging  by  her 
years  and  her  garments." 

"  The  mother  may  have  been  washed  off  before,"  said 
Susan,  lifting  the  little  one  from  the  cradle,  and  hushing 
it.  "  Weep  not,  poor  babe,  thou  hast  found  a  mother  here." 

"  Saw  you  no  sign  of  the  crew  ? "  asked  Master 
Heatherthwayte. 

"^^None  at  all.  The  vessel  I  knew  of  old  as  the 
brig  Bride  of  Dunbar,  one  of  the  craft  that  ply  between 
Dumbarton  and  the  Erench  ports." 

"And  how  think  you?    Were  none  like  to  be  saved?" 

"  I  mean  to  ride  along  the  coast  to-moirow,  to  see 


l]  the  little  waif.  11 

whether  aught  can  be  heard  of  them,  but  even  if  their 
boats  could  live  in  such  a  sea,  they  would  have  evil 
hap  among  the  wreckers  if  they  came  ashore.  I  would 
not  desire  to  be  a  shipwrecked  man  in  these  parts,  and 
if  I  had  a  Scottish  or  a  French  tongue  in  my  head  so 
much  the  worse  for  me." 

"  Ah,  Master  Heatherthwayte,"  said  Susan,  "  should 
not  a  man  give  up  the  sea  when  he  is  a  husband  and 
father  ? " 

"  Tush,  dame  !  With  God's  blessing  the  good  ship 
Mastiff  will  ride  out  many  another  such  gale.  Tell 
thy  mother,  little  Numpy,  that  an  English  sailor  is 
worth  a  dozen  French  or  Scottish  lubbers." 

"  Sir,"  said  Master  Heatherthwayte,  "  the  pious  trust 
of  the  former  part  of  your  discourse  is  contradicted  by 
the  boast  of  the  latter  end." 

"  Nay,  Sir  Minister,  what  doth  a  sailor  put  his  trust 
in  but  his  God  foremost,  and  then  his  good  ship  and 
his  brave  men  ?" 

It  should  be  observed  that  all  the  three  men  wore 
their  hats,  and  each  made  a  reverent  gesture  of  touch- 
ing them.  The  clergyman  seemed  satisfied  by  the 
answer,  and  presently  added  that  it  would  be  well,  if 
Master  and  Mistress  Talbot  meant  to  adopt  the  child, 
that  she  should  be  baptized. 

"  How  now  ?"  said  Eichard,  "  we  are  not  so  near  any 
coast  of  Turks  or  Infidels  that  we  should  deem  her 
sprung  of  heathen  folk." 

"  Assuredly  not,"  said  Cuthbert  Langston,  whose 
quick,  light-coloured  eyes  had  spied  the  reliquary  in 
Mistress  Susan's  work-basket,  "  if  this  belongs  to  her. 
By  your  leave,  kinswoman,"  and  he  lifted  it  in  his  hand 
with  evident  veneration,  and  began  examining  it. 

"  It  is  Babylonish  gold,  an  accursed  tiling ! "  ex- 


12  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

claimed  Master  Heatherthwayte.  "Beware,  Master 
Talbot,  and  cast  it  from  thee." 

"  Nay,"  said  Eichard,  "  that  shall  I  not  do.  It  may 
lead  to  the  discovery  of  the  child's  kindred.  Why, 
my  master,  what  harm  think  you  it  will  do  to  us  in 
my  dame's  casket  ?  Or  what  right  have  we  to  make 
away  with  the  little  one's  property  ?" 

His  common  sense  was  equally  far  removed  from 
the  horror  of  the  one  visitor  as  from  the  reverence  of 
the  other,  and  so  it  pleased  neither.  Master  Langston 
was  the  first  to  speak,  observing  that  the  reKc  made  it 
evident  that  the  child  must  have  been  baptized. 

"  A  Popish  baptism,"  said  Master  Heatherthwayte, 
"  with  chrism  and  taper  and  words  and  gestures  to 
destroy  the  pure  simplicity  of  the  sacrament." 

Controversy  here  seemed  to  be  setting  in,  and  the 
infant  cause  of  it  here  setting  up  a  cry,  Susan  escaped 
under  pretext  of  putting  Humfrey  to  bed  in  the  next 
room,  and  carried  off  both  the  little  ones.  The  con- 
versation then  fell  upon  the  voyage,  and  the  captain 
described  the  impregnable  aspect  of  the  castle  of 
Dumbarton,  which  was  held  for  Queen  Mary  by  her 
faithful  partisan,  Lord  Flemyng.  On  this,  Cuthbert 
Langston  asked  whether  he  had  heard  any  tidings  of 
the  imprisoned  Queen,  and  he  answered  that  it  was  re- 
ported at  Leith  that  she  had  well-nigh  escaped  fromLoch- 
leven,  in  the  disguise  of  a  lavender  or  washerwoman. 
She  was  actually  in  the  boat,  and  about  to  cross  the  lake, 
when  a  rude  oarsman  attempted  to  pull  aside  her  muffler, 
and  the  whiteness  of  the  hand  she  raised  in  self-protec- 
tion betrayed  her,  so  that  she  was  carried  back.  "  If  she 
had  reached  Dumbarton,"  he  said,  "she  might  have 
mocked  at  the  Lords  of  the  Congregation,  Nay,  she 
might  have  been  in  that  very  brig,  whose  wreck  I  beheld." 


I.]  THE  LITTLE  WAIF.  13 

„  "And  well  would  it  have  been  for  Scotland  and 
England  had  it  been  the  will  of  Heaven  that  so  it 
should  fall  out,"  observed  the  Puritan. 

.  "  Or  it  may  be,"  said  the  merchant,  "  that  the  poor 
lady's  escape  was  frustrated  by  Providence,  that  she 
might  be  saved  from  the  rocks  of  the  Spurn." 

"  The  poor  lady,  truly  !     Say  rather  the  murtheress,' 
quoth  Heatherthwayte. 

"  Say  rather  the  victim  and  scapegoat  of  otlier 
men's  plots,"  protested  Laugstou. 

"  Come,  come,  sirs,"  says  Talbot,  "  we'll  have  no 
high  words  here  on  what  Heaven  only  knoweth.  Poor 
lady  she  is,  in  all  sooth,  if  sackless ;  poorer  still  if 
guilty ;  so  I  know  not  what  matter  there  is  for  falling 
out  about.  In  any  sort,  I  will  not  have  it  at  my 
table."  He  spoke  with  the  authority  of  the  captain  of  a 
ship,  and  the  two  visitors,  scarce  knowing  it,  submitted 
to  his  decision  of  manner,  but  the  harmony  of  the  even- 
ing seemed  ended.  Cuthbert  Langs  ton  soon  rose  to  bid 
good-night,  first  asking  his  cousin  at  what  hour  he 
proposed  to  set  forth  for  the  Spurn,  to  which  Eichard 
briefly  replied  that  it  depended  on  what  had  to  be 
done  as  to  the  repairs  of  the  ship. 

The  clergyman  tarried  behind  him  to  say,  "Master  Tal- 
bot, I  marvel  that  so  godly  a  man  as  you  have  ever  been 
should  be  willing  to  harbour  one  so  popishly  affected, 
and  whom  many  suspect  of  being  a  seminary  priest." 

"  Master  Heatherthwayte,"  returned  the  captain, 
"  my  kinsman  is  my  kinsman,  and  my  house  is  my 
house.      No  offence,  sir,  but  I  brook  not  meddling." 

The  clergyman  protested  that  no  offence  was  in- 
tended, only  caution,  and  betook  himself  to  his  own 
bare  chamber,  high  above.  No  sooner  was  he  gone 
than   Captain   Talbot   again   became    absorbed  in  the 


14  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

endeavour  to  spell  out  the  mystery  of  the  scroll,  with 
his  elbows  on  the  table  and  his  hands  over  his  ears,  nor 
did  he  look  up  till  he  was  touched  by  his  wife,  when 
he  uttered  an  impatient  demand  what  she  wanted  now. 
She  had  the  little  waif  in  her  arms  undressed,  and 
with  only  a  woollen  coverlet  loosely  wrapped  round 
her,  and  without   speaking   she  pointed  to  the  little 

M 

shoulder-blades,       /"  I     J       where    two    marks 


had  been  indelibly  made — on   one  side  the  crowned 
monogram  of  the  Blessed  Virgin,  on  the  other  a  device 


like  the  Labarum,    ""^L     I    jr"     only  that  the  up- 


right was  surmounted  by  a  jleur-de-lis. 

Eichard  Talbot  gave  a  sort  of  perplexed  grunt  of 
annoyance  to  acknowledge  that  he  saw  them. 

"  Poor  little  maid  !  how  could  they  be  so  cruel  ? 
They  have  been  branded  with  a  hot  iron,"  said  the 
lady. 

"  They  that  parted  from  her  meant  to  know  her 
again,"  returned  Talbot. 

"  Surely  they  are  Popish  marks,"  added  Mistress 
Susan. 

"  Look  you  here,  Dame  Sue,  I  know  you  for  a  dis- 


l]  the  little  waif.  15 

creet  woman.  Keep  this  gear  to  yourself,  both  the 
letter  and  the  marks.     Who  hath  seen  them  ? " 

"  I  doubt  me  whether  even  Colet  has  seen  this  mark." 

"  That  is  well.  Keep  all  out  of  sight.  Many  a 
man  has  been  brought  into  trouble  for  a  less  matter 
swelled  by  prating  tongues." 

"  Have  you  made  it  out  ?  " 

"  ISTot  I.  It  may  be  only  the  child's  horoscope,  or 
some  old  wife's  charm  that  is  here  sewn  up,  and  these 
marks  may  be  naught  but  some  sailor's  freak ;  but,  on 
the  other  hand,  they  may  be  concerned  with  perilous 
matter,  so  the  less  said  the  better." 

"  Should  they  not  be  shown  to  my  lord,  or  to  her 
Grace's  Council  ? " 

"  I'm  not  going  to  run  my  head  into  trouble  for  mak- 
ing a  coil  about  what  may  be  naught.  That's  what 
befell  honest  Mark  Walton.  He  thought  he  had  seized 
matter  of  State,  and  went  up  to  Master  Walsingham, 
swelling  like  an  Indian  turkey-cock,  with  his  secret 
letters,  and  behold  they  turned  out  to  be  a  Dutch  fish- 
wife's charm  to  bring  the  herrings.  I  can  tell  you  he 
has  rued  the  work  he  made  about  it  ever  since.  On  the 
other  hand,  let  it  get  abroad  through  yonder  prating  fel- 
low, Heatherthwayte,  or  any  other,  that  Master  Eichard 
Talbot  had  in  his  house  a  child  with,  I  know  not  what 
Popish  tokens,  and  a  scroll  in  an  unknown  tongue,  and 
I  should  be  had  up  in  gyves  for  suspicion  of  treason, 
or  may  be  harbouring  the  Prince  of  Scotland  himself, 
when  it  is  only  some  poor  Scottish  archer's  babe." 

"  You  would  not  have  me  part  with  the  poor  little 
one  ? " 

"Am  I  a  Turk  or  a  Pagan  ?  No.  Only  hold  thy 
peace,  as  I  shall  hold  mine,  until  such  time  as  I  can 
meet  some  one  whom  I  can  trust  to  read  this  riddla 


16  UNKNOWN   TO   HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

Tell  me — what  like  is  the  cliild  ?  Wouldst  guess  it 
to  be  of  gentle,  or  of  clownish  blood,  if  women  can  tell 
such  things  ? " 

"  Of  gentle  blood,  assuredly,"  cried  the  lady,  so  that 
he  smiled  and  said,  "I  might  have  known  that  so  thou 
wouldst  answer." 

"  Nay,  but  see  her  little  hands  and  fingers,  and  the 
mould  of  her  dainty  limbs.  No  Scottish  fisher  clown 
was  her  father,  I  dare  be  sworn.  Her  skin  is  as  fair 
and  fine  as  my  Humfrey's,  and  moreover  she  has 
always  been  in  hands  that  knew  how  a  babe  should  be 
tended.      Any  woman  can  tell  you  that !  " 

"  And  what  like  is  she  in  your  woman!s  eyes  ? 
What  complexion  doth  she  promise  ?  " 

"  Her  hair,  what  she  has  of  it,  is  dark ;  her  eyes — 
bless  them — are  of  a  deep  blue,  or  jjurple,  such  as 
most  babes  have  till  they  take  their  true  tint.  There 
is  no  guessing.  Humfrey's  eyes  were  once  like  to  be 
brown,  now  are  they  as  blue  as  thine  own." 

"  I  understand  all  that,"  said  Captain  Talbot,  smil- 
ing. "  If  she  have  kindred,  they  will  know  her  better 
by  the  sign  manual  on  her  tender  flesh  than  by  her  face." 

"  And  who  are  they  ?" 

"Who  are  they?"  echoed  the  captain,  rolling  up 
the  scroll  in  despair.  "  Here,  take  it,  Susan,  and  keep 
it  safe  from  all  eyes.  Whatever  it  may  be,  it  may 
serve  thereafter  to  prove  her  true  name.  And  above 
all,  not  a  word  or  breath  to  Heatherthwayte,  or  any 
of  thy  gossips,  wear  they  coif  or  bands." 

"  Ah,  sir  !  that  you  will  mistrust  the  good  man." 

"  I  said  not  I  mistrust  any  one ;  only  that  I  will 
have  no  word  of  all  this  go  forth !  Not  one  !  Thou 
heedest  me,  wife  ? " 

"  Verily  I  do,  sir ;  I  will  be  mute." 


il]  evil  tidings.  17 


CHAPTEE  II. 

EVIL   TIDINGS. 

After  giving  orders  for  the  repairs  of  the  Mastiff,  and 
the  disposal  of  her  crew,  Master  Eichard  Talbot  pur- 
veyed himself  of  a  horse  at  the  hostel,  and  set  forth 
for  Spurn  Head  to  make  inquiries  along  the  coast 
respecting  the  wreck  of  the  Bride  of  Dunbar,  and  he  was 
joined  by  Cuthbert  Langston,  who  said  his  house  had 
had  dealings  with  her  owners,  and  that  he  must  ascer- 
tain the  fate  of  her  wares.  His  good  lady  remained 
in  charge  of  the  mysterious  little  waif,  over  whom  her 
tender  heart  yearned  more  and  more,  while  her  little 
boy  hovered  about  in  serene  contemplation  of  the 
treasure  he  thought  he  had  recovered.  To  him  the 
babe  seemed  really  his  little  sister ;  to  his  mother,  if 
she  sometimes  awakened  pangs  of  keen  regret,  yet  she 
filled  up  much  of  the  dreary  void  of  the  last  few  weeks. 

Mrs.  Talbot  was  a  quiet,  reserved  woman,  not  prone 
to  gadding  abroad,  and  she  had  made  few  acquaintances 
during  her  sojourn  at  Hull ;  but  every  creature  she 
knew,  or  might  have  known,  seemed  to  her  to  drop  in 
that  day,  and  bring  at  least  two  friends  to  inspect  the 
orphan  of  the  wreck,  and  demand  all  particulars. 

The  little  girl  was  clad  in  the  swaddling  garments 
of   Mrs.   Talbot's  own   children,  and   the  mysterious 

c 


18  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

.marks  were  suspected  Ly  no  one,  far  less  the  letter 
which  Susan,  for  security's  sake,  had  locked  up  in 
her  nearly  empty,  steel-bound,  money  casket.  The 
opinions  of  the  gossips  varied,  some  thinking  the  babe 
might  belong  to  some  of  the  Queen  of  Scotland's  party 
fleeing  to  France,  others  fathering  her  on  the  refugees 
from  the  persecutions  in  Flanders,  a  third  party  believ- 
ing her  a  mere  fisherman's  child,  and  one  lean,  lantern- 
jawed  old  crone,  Mistress  Eotherford,  observing,  "  Take 
my  word,  Mrs.  Talbot,  and  keep  her  not  with  you. 
They  that  are  cast  up  by  the  sea  never  bring  good 
with  them." 

The  court  of  female  inquiry  was  still  sitting  when 
a  heavy  tread  was  heard,  and  Colet  announced  "  a 
serving-man  from  Bridgefield  had  ridden  post  haste  to 
speak  with  madam,"  and  the  messenger,  booted  and 
spurred,  with  the  mastiff  badge  on  his  sleeve,  and  the 
hat  he  held  in  his  hand,  followed  closely. 

"What  news,  Nathanael?"  she  asked,  as  she  re- 
sponded to  his  greeting. 

"  111  enough  news,  mistress,"  was  the  answer. 
"  Master  Eichard's  ship  be  in,  they  tell  me." 

"  Yea,  but  he  is  rid  out  to  malce  inquiry  for  a 
wreck,"  said  the  lady.  "  Is  all  well  with  my  good 
father-in-law  ?" 

"  He  ails  less  in  body  than  in  mind,  so  please  you. 
Being  that  Master  Humfrey  was  thrown  by  Blackfoot, 
the  beast  being  scared  by  a  flash  of  lightning,  and 
never  spoke  again." 

"Master  Humfrey!" 

"Ay,  mistress.  Pitched  on  his  head  against  the 
south  gate-post.  I  saw  how  it  was  with  him  when  we 
took  him  up,  and  he  never  so  much  as  lifted  an  eyelid, 
but  died  at  the  turn  of  the  nidit.    Heaven  rest  his  soul !" 


11.]  EVIL  TIDINGS.  19 

"Heaven  rest  his  soul!"  echoed  Susan,  and  the 
ladies  around  chimed  in.  They  had  come  for  one  excite- 
ment, and  here  was  another. 

"  There !  See  but  what  I  said  ! "  quoth  Mrs. 
Eotherford,  uplifting  a  skinny  finger  to  emphasise 
that  the  poor  little  flotsome  had  already  brought  evil. 

"  Nay,"  said  the  portly  wife  of  a  merchant,  "  begging 
your  pardon,  this  may  be  a  fat  instead  of  a  lean  sorrow. 
Leaves  the  poor  gentleman  heirs,  Mrs.  Talbot  ?  " 

"  Oh  no  !"  said  Susan,  with  tears  in  her  eyes.  "  His 
wife  died  two  years  back,  and  her  chrisom  babe  with 
her.  He  loved  her  too  well  to  turn  his  mind  to  wed 
again,  and  now  he  is  with  her  for  aye."  And  she 
covered  her  face  and  sobbed,  regardless  of  the  congratu- 
lations of  the  merchant's  wife,  and  exclaiming,  "  Oh ! 
the  poor  old  lady  !"' 

"  In  sooth,  mistress,"  said  Nathanael,  who  had  stood 
all  this  time  as  if  he  had  by  no  means  emptied  his 
budget  of  ill  news,  "  poor  old  madam  fell  down  all  of 
a  heap  on  the  floor,  and  when  the  wenches  lifted  her, 
they  found  she  was  stricken  with  the  dead  palsy,  and 
she  has  not  spoken,  and  there's  no  one  knows  what  to 
do,  for  the  poor  old  squire  is  like  one  distraught,  sit- 
ting by  her  bed  like  an  image  on  a  monument,  with 
the  tears  flowing  down  his  old  cheeks.  '  But,'  says  he 
to  me,  'get  you  to  Hull,  Nat,  and  take  madam's 
palfrey  and  a  couple  of  sumpter  beasts,  and  bring  my 
good  daughter  Talbot  back  with  you  as  fast  as  she  and 
the  babes  may  brook.'  I  made  bold  to  say,  'And 
Master  Eichard,  your  worship  ?'  then  he  groaned 
somewhat,  and  said,  '  If  my  son's  ship  be  come  in,  he 
must  do  as  her  Grace's  service  permits,  but  meantime 
he  must  spare  us  his  wife,  for  she  is  sorely  needed 
here.'     And  he  looked  at  the  bed  so  as  it  would  break 


20  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

your  heart  to  see,  for  since  old  Nurse  Tooke  hath  heeu 
doited,  there's  not  been  a  wench  about  the  house  that 
can  do  a  hand's  turn  for  a  sick  body." 

Susau  knew  this  was  true,  for  her  mother-in-law 
had  been  one  of  those  bustling,  managing  housewives, 
who  prefer  doing  everything  themselves  to  training 
others,  and  she  was  appalled  at  the  idea  of  the  prob- 
able desolation  and  helplessness  of  the  bereaved 
household. 

It  was  far  too  late  to  start  that  day,  even  had  her 
husband  been  at  home,  for  the  horses  sent  for  her  had 
to  rest.  The  visitors  would  fain  have  extracted  some 
more  particulars  about  the  old  squire's  age,  his  kindred 
to  the  great  Earl,  and  the  amount  of  estate  to  which 
her  husband  had  become  heir.  There  were  those 
among  them  who  could  not  understand  Susan's  genuine 
grief,  and  there  were  others  whose  consolations  were  no 
less  distressing  to  one  of  her  reserved  character.  She 
made  brief  answer  that  the  squire  was  threescore  and 
fifteen  years  old,  his  wife  nigh  about  his  age ;  that  her 
husband  was  now  their  only  child ;  that  he  was 
descended  from  a  son  of  the  great  Earl  John,  killed  at 
the  Bridge  of  Chatillon ;  that  he  held  the  estate  of 
Bridgefield  in  fief  on  tenure,  of  military  service  to  the 
head  of  his  family.  She  did  not  know  how  much  it 
was  worth  by  the  year,  but  she  must  pray  the  good 
ladies  to  excuse  her,  as  she  had  many  preparations  to 
make.  Volunteers  to  assist  her  in  packing  her  mails 
were  made,  but  she  declined  them  all,  and  rejoiced 
when  left  alone  with  Colet  to  arrange  for  what  would 
be  probably  her  final  departure  from  Hull. 

It  was  a  blow  to  find  that  she  must  part  from  her 
servant-woman,  who,  as  well  as  her  husband  Gervas,  was 
a  native  of  Hull.     Not  only  were  they  both  unwilling 


il]  evil  tidings.  2] 

to  leave,  but  the  inland  country  was  to  their  imagination 
a  wild  unexplored  desert.  Indeed,  Colet  had  only 
entered  Mrs.  Talbot's  service  to  supply  the  place  of  a 
maid  who  had  sickened  with  fever  and  ague,  and  had 
to  be  sent  back  to  her  native  Hallamshire. 

Ere  long  Mr.  Heatherthwayte  came  down  to  offer 
his  consolation,  and  still  more  his  advice,  that,the  little 
foundling  should  be  at  once  baptized — conditionally,  if 
the  lady  preferred  it. 

The  Eeformed  of  imperfect  theological  training,  and 
as  such  Joseph  Heatherthwayte  must  be  classed,  were 
apt  to  view  the  ceremonial  of  the  old  baptismal  form, 
symbolical  and  beautiful  as  it  was,  as  almost  destroy- 
ing th^  efficacy  of  the  rite.  Moreover,  there  was  a 
further  impression  that  the  Church  by  which  the  child 
was  baptized,  had  a  right  to  briug  it  up,  and  thus  the 
clergyman  was  urgent  with  the  lady  that  she  should 
seize  this  opportunity  for  the  little  one's  baptism. 

"  l^ot  without  "my  husband's  consent  and  know- 
ledge," she  said  resolutely, 

"  Master  Talbot  is  a  good  man,  but  somewhat  care- 
IfSo  of  sound  doctrine,  as  be  the  most  of  seafaring 
men." 

Susan  had  been  a  little  nettled  by  her  husband's 
implied  belief  that  she  was  influenced  by  the  minister, 
so  there  was  double  resolution,  as  well  as  some  offence 
in  her  reply,  that  she  knew  her  duty  as  a  wife  too  well 
to  consent  to  such  a  thing  without  him.  As  to  his 
being  careless,  he  was  a  true  and  God-fearing  man,  and 
Mr.  Heatherthwayte  should  know  better  than  to  speak 
thus  of  him  to  his  wife. 

Mr.  Heathertliwayte's  real  piety  and  goodness  had 
made  him  a  great  comfort  to  Susan  in  her  lonely  grief, 
but  he  had  not  the  delicate  tact  of  gentle  blood,  and 


22  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [cHAP. 

had  not  known  where  to  stop,  and  as  he  stood  half 
apologising  and  half  exhorting,  she  felt  that  her  Eichard 
was  quite  right,  and  that  he  could  he  both  ineddliug 
and  presuming.  He  was  exceedingly  in  the  way  of 
her  packing  too,  and  she  was  at  her  wit's  end  to  get  rid 
of  him,  when  suddenly  Humfrey  managed  to  pinch  his 
fingers  in  a  box,  and  set  up  such  a  yell,  as,  seconded  by 
the  frightened  baby,  was  more  than  any  masculine  ears 
could  endure,  and  drove  Master  Heatherthwayte  to 
beat  a  retreat. 

Mistress  Susan  was  well  on  in  her  work  when  her 
husband  returned,  and  as  she  expected,  was  gTeatly 
overcome  by  the  tidings  of  his  brother's  death.  He 
closely  questioned  Nathanael  on  every  detail,  and  could 
think  of  nothing  but  tlie  happy  days  he  had  shared 
with  his  brother,  and  of  the  gTief  of  his  parents.  He 
approved  of  all  that  his  wife  had  done ;  and  as  the 
damage  sustained  by  the  Mastiff  could  not  be  repaired 
under  a  month,  he  had  no  doubt  alTout  leaving  his  crew 
in  the  charge  of  his  lieutenant  while  he  took  his  family 
home. 

So  busy  were  both,  and  so  fall  of  needful  cares,  the 
one  in  giving  up  her  lodging,  the  other  in  leaving  his 
men,  that  it  was  impossible  to  inquire  into  the  result 
of  his  researches,  for  the  captain  was  in  that  mood  of 
suppressed  grief  and  vehement  haste  in  which  irrele- 
vant inquiry  is  perfectly  unbearable. 

It  was  not  till  late  in  the  evening  that  Eichard 
told  his  wife  of  his  want  of  success  in  his  investiga- 
tions. He  had  found  witnesses  of  the  destruction  of 
the  ship,  but  he  did  not  give  them  full  credit.  "  The 
fellows  say  the  ship  drove  on  the  rock,  and  that  they 
saw  her  boats  go  down  with  every  soul  on  board,  and 
that  they  would   not  lie   to  an  officer  of  her  Grace. 


il]  evil  tidings.  2o 

Heaven  pardon  nie  if  I  do  them  injustice  in  believing 
they  would  lie  to  him  sooner  than  to  any  one  else. 
They  are  rogues  enough  to  take  good  care  that  no  poor 
wretch  should  survive  even  if  he  did  chance  to  conic 
to  land." 

"  Then  if  there  be  no  one  to  claim  her,  we  may 
bring  up  as  our  own  the  sweet  babe  whom  Heaven 
hath  sent  us." 

"  Not  so  fast,  dame.  Thou  wert  wont  to  be  more 
discreet.  I  said  not  so,  but  for  the  nonce,  till  I  can 
come  by  the  rights  of  that  scroll,  there's  no  need  to 
make  a  coil.  Let  no  one  know  of  it,  or  of  the  trinket 
— Thou  hast  them  safe  ? "' 

"  Laid  up  with  the  Indian  gold  chain,  thy  wedding 
gift,  dear  sir." 

"  'Tis  well.  My  mother ! — ah  me,"  he  added, 
catching  himself  up;  "  little  like  is  she  to  ask  questions, 
poor  soul." 

Then  Susan  diffidently  told  of  Master  Heather- 
thwayte's  earnest  wish  to  christen  the  child,  and,  what 
certainly  biassed  her  a  good  deal,  the  suggestion  that 
this  would  secure  her  to  their  own  religion. 

"  There  is  something  in  that,"  said  Eichard, 
"  specially  after  what  Cuthbert  said  as  to  the  golden 
toy  yonder.  If  times  changed  again — which  Heaven 
forfend — that  fellow  might  give  us  trouble  about  the 
matter." 

"  You  doubt  him  then,  sir !"  she  asked. 

"  I  relished  not  his  ways  on  our  ride  to-day,"  said 
Richard.  "  Sure  I  am  that  he  had  some  secret  cause 
for  being  so  curious  about  the  wreck.  I  suspect  him 
of  some  secret  commerce  with  the  Queen  of  Scots'  folk." 

"  Yet  you  were  on  his  side  against  Mr.  Heathcr- 
thwayte,"  said  Susan. 


24  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHA.P. 

"  I  would  not  have  my  kinsman  browbeaten  at 
mine  own  table  by  the  self-conceited  son  of  a  dalesman, 
even  if  he  have  got  a  round  hat  and  Geneva  band  ! 
Ah,  well !  one  good  thing  is  we  shall  leave  both  of 
them  well  behind  us,  though  I  would  it  were  lor 
another  cause." 

Something  in  the  remonstrance  had,  however,  so 
worked  on  Eichard  Talbot,  that  before  morning  he 
declared  that,  hap  what  hap,  if  he  and  his  wife  were  to 
bring  up  the  child,  she  should  be  made  a  good  Pro- 
testant Christian  before  they  left  the  house,  and  there 
should  be  no  more  ado  about  it. 

It  was  altogether  illogical  and  untheological ;  but 
Master  Heatherthwayte  was  delighted  when  in  the 
very  early  morning  his  devotions  were  interrupted,  and 
he  was  summoned  by  the  captain  himself  to  christen 
the  child. 

Eichard  and  his  wife  were  sponsors,  but  the  ques- 
tion of  name  had  never  occurred  to  any  one.  However, 
in  the  pause  of  perplexity,  when  the  response  lagged 
to  "  Name  this  child,"  little  Humfrey,  a  delighted 
spectator,  broke  out  again  with  "  Little  Sis." 

And  forthwith,  "  Cicely,  if  thou  art  not  already 
baptized,"  was  uttered  over  the  child,  and  Cicely  be- 
came her  name.  It  cost  Susan  a  pang,  as  it  had  been 
that  of  her  own  little  daughter,  but  it  was  too  late  to 
object,  and  she  uttered  no  regret,  but  took  the  child  to 
her  heart,  as  sent  instead  of  her  who  had  been  taken 
from  her. 

MasteT  Heatherthwayte  bade  them  good  speed,  and 
Master  Laugston  stood  at  the  door  of  his  office  and 
waved  them  a  farewell,  both  alike  unconscious  of  the 
rejoicing  with  which  they  were  left  behind.  Mistress 
Talbot  rode  on  the  palfrey  sent  for  her  use,  with  the 


il]  evil  tidings.  25 

little  stranger  slung  to  her  neck  for  security's  sake. 
Her  boy  rode  "  a  cock-horse "  before  his  father,  but 
a  resting-place  was  provided  for  him  on  a  sort  of 
pannier  on  one  of  the  sumpter  beasts.  What  these 
animals  could  not  carry  of  the  household  stuff  was  left 
in  Colet's  charge  to  be  despatclied  by  carriers ;  and  the 
travellers  jogged  slowly  on  through  deep  Yorkshire 
lanes,  often  halting  to  refresh  the  horses  and  supply 
the  wants  of  the  little  children  at  homely  wayside  inns, 
their  entrance  usually  garnished  with  an  archway 
formed  of  the  jawbones  of  whales,  which  often  served 
for  gate-posts  in  that  eastern  part  of  Yorkshire.  And 
thus  tliey  journeyed,  with  frequent  halts,  until  they 
came  to  the  Derbyshire  borders. 

Bridgefield  House  stood  on  the  top  of  a  steep  slope 
leading  to  the  river  Dun,  with  a  high  arched  bridge 
and  a  mill  below  it.  From  the  bridge  proceeded  oup. 
of  the  magnificent  avenues  of  oak-trees  which  led  up 
to  the  lordly  lodge,  full  four  miles  off,  right  across 
Sheffield  Park. 

The  Bridgefield  estate  had  been  a  younger  son's 
portion,  and  its  owners  had  always  been  regarded  as 
gentlemen  retainers  of  the  head  of  their  name,  the  Earl 
of  Shrewsbury.  Tudor  jealousy  had  forbidden  the 
marshalling  of  such  a  meind  as  the  old  feudal  lords 
had  loved  to  assemble,  and  each  generation  of  the 
Bridgefield  Talbots  had  become  more  independent  than 
the  former  one.  The  father  had  spent  his  younger 
days  as  esquire  to  the  late  Earl,  but  had  since  become 
a  justice  of  the  peace,  and  took  rank  with  the  substan- 
tial .landowners  of  the  country.  Humfrey,  his  eldest 
son,  had  been  a  gentleman  pensioner  of  the  Queen  till 
his  marriage,  and  Eichard,  though  beginning  his  career 
as  page  to  the  present  Earl's  first  wife,  had  likewise 


26  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

entered  the  service  of  her  Majesty,  though  still  it  was 
iiuderstood  tliat  the  head  of  their  name  had  a  claim  to 
their  immediate  service,  and  had  he  been  called  to 
take  up  arms,  they  would  have  been  the  first  to  follow 
his  banner.  Indeed,  a  pair  of  spurs  was  all  the  annual 
rent  they  paid  for  their  estate,  which  they  held  on 
this  tenure,  as  well  as  on  paying  the  heriard  horse 
on  the  death  of  the  head  of  the  family,  and  other  con- 
tributions to  their  lord's  splendour  when  he  knighted 
his  son  or  married  his  daughter.  In  fact,  they  stood 
on  the  borderland  of  that  feudal  retainership  which 
was  being  rapidly  extinguished.  The  estate,  carved 
out  of  the  great  Sheffield  property,  was  sufficient  to 
maintain  the  owner  in  the  dignities  of  an  English 
gentleman,  and  to  portion  off  the  daughters,  provided 
that  the  superfluous  sons  shifted  for  themselves,  as 
Eichard  had  hitherto  done.  The  house  had  been 
ruined  in  the  time  of  the  Wars  of  the  Eoses,  and  re- 
built in  the  later  fashion,  with  a  friendly-looking  front, 
containing  two  large  Mdndows,  and  a  porch  projecting 
between  them.  The  hall  reached  to  the  top  of  the 
house,  and  had  a  waggon  ceiling,  with  mastiffs  alternat- 
ing with  roses  on  portcullises  at  the  intersections  of 
the  timbers.  This  was  the  family  sitting  and  dining 
room,  and  had  a  huge  chimney  never  devoid  of  a  wood 
fire.  One  end  had  a  buttery-hatch  communicating 
with  the  kitchen  and  offices ;  at  the  other  was  a  small 
room,  sacred  to  the  master  of  the  house,  niched  under 
the  broad  staircase  tliat  led  to  the  upper  rooms,  which 
opened  on  a  gallery  running  round  three  sides  of  the 
hall. 

Outside,  on  the  southern  side  of  the  house,  was  a 
garden  of  potherbs,  with  the  green  walks  edged  by  a 
few  bright  flowers  for  beau-pots  and  posies.     This  had 


II.]  EVIL  TIDINGS.  27 

stone  walls  separating  it  from  the  paddock,  which 
sloped  down  to  the  river,  and  was  a  good  deal  broken 
by  ivy-covered  rocks.  Adjoining  the  stables  were  farm- 
buildings  and  barns,  for  there  M'ere  several  fields  for 
tillage  alonif  the  river -side,  and  the  mill  and  two 
more  farms  were  the  property  of  the  Bridgefield  squire, 
so  that  the  inheritance  was  a  very  fair  one,  wedged  in, 
as  it  were,  between  the  river  and  the  great  Chase  of 
Sheffield,  up  whose  stately  avenue  the  riding  party 
looked  as  they  crossed  the  bridge,  Eichard  having 
become  more  silent  than  ever  as  he  came  among  the 
familiar  rocks  and  trees  of  his  boyhood,  and  knew  he 
should  not  meet  that  hearty  welcome  from  his  brother 
which  had  never  hitherto  failed  to  greet  his  return. 
The  house  had  that  strange  air  of  forlornness  which 
seems  to  proclaim  sorrow  within.  The  great  court 
doors  stood  open,  and  a  big,  rough  deer-hound,  at  the 
sound  of  the  approaching  hoofs,  rose  slowly  up,  and 
began  a  series  of  long,  deep-mouthed  barks,  with  pauses 
between,  sounding  like  a  knell.  One  or  two  men  and 
maids  ran  out  at  the  sound,  and  as  the  travellers  rode 
up  to  the  horse-block,  an  old  gray-bearded  serving-man 
came  stumbling  forth  with  "  Oh  !  Master  Diccon,  woe 
worth  the  day !" 

"How  does  my  mother?"  asked  Eichard,  as  he 
sprang  off  and  set  his  boy  on  his  feet. 

"  No  worse,  sir,  but  she  hath  not  yet  spoken  a  word 
— back,  Thunder — ah  !  sir,  the  poor  dog  knows  you." 

For  the  great  hound  had  sprung  up  to  Eichard  in 
eager  greeting,  but  then,  as  soon  as  he  heard  his  voice, 
the  creature  drooped  his  ears  and  tail,  and  instead  of 
continuing  his  demonstrations  of  joy,  stood  quietly  by, 
only  now  and  then  poking  his  long,  rough  nose  into 
Eichard's    hand,   knowing    as    well    as    possible    that 


28  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

though  not  his  dear  lost  master,  he  was  the  next 
thing ! 

Mistress  Susan  and  the  infant  were  lifted  down — 
a  hurried  question  and  answer  assured  them  that  the 
funeral  was  over  yesterday.  My  Lady  Countess  had 
come  down  and  would  have  it  so ;  my  lord  was  at 
Court,  and  Sir  Gilbert  and  his  brothers  had  been 
present,  but  the  old  servants  thought  it  hard  tliat  none 
nearer  in  blood  should  be  there  to  lay  their  young 
squire  in  his  grave,  nor  to  support  his  father,  who, 
poor  old  man,  had  tottered,  and  been  so  like  to  swoon 
as  he  passed  the  hall  door,  that  Sir  Gilbert  and  old 
Diggory  could  but  help  him  back  again,  fearing  lest 
he,  too,  might  have  a  stroke. 

It  was  a  great  grief  to  Richard,  who  had  longed  to 
look  on  his  brother's  face  again,  but  he  could  say 
nothing,  only  he  gave  one  hand  to  his  wife  and  the 
other  to  his  son,  and  led  them  into  the  hall,  which  was 
in  an  indescribable  state  of  confusion.  The  trestles 
which  had  supported  the  cofhn  were  still  at  one  end  of 
the  room,  the  long  tables  were  still  covered  with  cloths, 
trenchers,  knives,  cups,  and  the  remains  of  the  funeral 
baked  meats,  and  there  were  overtln-own  tankards  and 
stains  of  wine  on  the  cloth,  as  though,  wliatever  else 
were  lacking,  the  Talbot  retainers  had  not  missed  their 
revel. 

One  of  the  dishevelled  rough-looking  maidens  began 
some  hurried  muttering  about  being  so  distraught,  and 
not  looking  for  madam  so  early,  but  Susan  could  not 
listen  to  her,  and  merely  putting  the  babe  into  her 
arms,  came  with  her  husband  up  the  stairs,  leaving 
little  Humfrey  with  Nathanael. 

Eichard  knocked  at  the  bedroom  door,  and,  receiving 
no  answer,  opened   it       There   in  the  tapestry- hung 


n.]  EVIL  TIDINGS.  29 

chamber  was  the  huge  old  bedstead  with  its  solid  posts. 
In  ■  it  lay  something  motionless,  but  the  first  thing 
the  husband  and  wife  saw  was  the  bent  head  which 
was  lifted  up  by  the  burly  but  broken  figure  in  the 
chair  beside  it. 

The  two  knotted  old  hands  clasped  the  arms  of  the 
chair,  and  the  squire  prepared  to  rise,  his  lip  trembling 
under  his  white  beard,  and  emotion  working  in  his 
dejected  features.  They  were  beforehand  with  him. 
Ere  he  could  rise  both  were  on  their  knees  before  him, 
while  Pilchard  in  a  broken  voice  cried,  "  Father,  0 
father!" 

"  Thank  God  that  thou  art  come,  my  son,"  said  the 
old  man,  layiug  his  hands  on  his  shoulders,  with  a 
gleam  of  joy,  for  as  they  afterwards  knew,  he  liad 
sorely  feared  for  Kichard's  ship  in  the  storm  that  had 
caused  Humfrey's  death.  "  I  looked  for  thee,  my 
daughter,"  he  added,  stretching  out  one  hand  to  Susan, 
who  kissed  it.  "  Now  it  may  go  better  with  her  ! 
Speak  to  thy  mother,  Eichard,  she  may  know  thy 
voice." 

Alas !  no ;  the  recently  active,  ready  old  lady  was 
utterly  stricken,  and  as  yet  held  in  the  deadly  grasp 
of  paralysis,  unconscious  of  all  that  passed  around  her. 

Susan  found  herself  obliged  at  once  to  take  up 
the  reins,  and  become  head  nurse  and  housekeeper. 
The  old  squire  trusted  implicitly  to  her,  and  helplessly 
put  the  keys  into  her  hands,  and  the  serving-men  and 
maids,  in  some  shame  at  the  condition  in  which  tlie 
hall  had  been  found,  bestirred  themselves  to  set  it  in 
order,  so  that  there  was  a  chance  of  the  ordinary  appear- 
ance of  things  being  restored  by  supper-time,  when 
Eichard  hoped  to  persuade  his  father  to  come  down  to 
his  usual  place. 


so  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CH^P. 

Long  before  this,  however,  a  trampling  had  been 
heard  in  the  court,  and  a  shrill  voice,  well  known  to 
Bicliard  and  Susan,  was  heard  demanding,  "Come  home, 
is  she — Master  Diccon  too  ?  More  shame  for  you, 
you  sluttish  queans  and  lazy  lubbers,  never  to  have  let 
me  know ;  but  none  of  you  have  any  respect " 

A  visit  from  my  Lady  Countess  was  a  greater 
favour  to  such  a  household  as  that  of  Bridgefield  than 
it  would  be  to  a  cottage  of  the  present  day ;  Eichard 
was  hurrying  downstairs,  and  Susan  only  tarried  to 
throw  off  the  housewifely  apron  in  which  she  had  been 
compounding  a  cooling  drink  for  the  poor  old  lady, 
and  to  wash  her  hands,  while  Himifrey,  rushing  up  to 
her,  exclaimed  "Mother,  mother,  is  it  the  Queen  ?" 

Queen  Elizabeth  lierself  was  not  inaptly  represented 
by  her  namesake  of  Hardwicke,  the  Queen  of  Hallam- 
shire,  sitting  on  her  grdat  white  mule  at  the  door, 
sideways,  with  her  feet  on  a  board,  as  little  children 
now  ride,  and  attended  by  a  whole  troop  of  gentlemen 
ushers,  maidens,  prickers,  and  running  footmen.  She 
was  a  woman  of  the  same  type  as  the  Queen,  which 
was  of  course  enough  to  stamp  her  as  a  celebrated 
beauty,  and  though  she  had  reached  middle  age,  her 
pale,  clear  complexion  and  delicate  features  were  well 
preserved.  Her  chin  was  too  sharp,  and  there  w^as 
something  too  thin  and  keen  about  her  nose  and  lips 
to  promise  good  temper.  She  was  small  of  stature, 
but  she  made  up  for  it  in  dignity  of  presence,  and  as  she 
Bat  there,  with  her  rich  embroidered  green  satin  farthin- 
gale spreading  out  over  the  mule,  her  tall  ruft'  standing 
up  fanlike  on  her  shoulders,  her  riding- rod  in  her 
hand,  and  her  master  of  the  horse  standing  at  her  rein, 
while  a  gentleman  usher  wielded  an  enormous,  long- 
h£k,udled,  green  fan,  to  keep  the  sun  from  incommoding 


II.]  EVIL  TIDINGS.  31 

her,  she  was,  perhaps,  even  more  magnificent  than  the 
maiden  queen  herself  might  have  been  in  her  more 
private  expeditions.  Indeed,  she  was  new  to  her 
dignity  as  Countess,  having  been  only  a  few  weeks 
married  to  the  Earl,  her  fourth  husband.  Caj)tain 
Talbot  did  not  feel  it  derogatory  to  his  dignity  as  a 
gentleman  to  advance  with  his  hat  in  his  hand  to  kiss 
her  hand,  and  put  a  knee  to  the  ground  as  he  invited 
her  to  alight,  an  invitation  his  wife  heard  with  dismay 
.as  she  reached  the  door,  for  things  were  by  no  means 
yet  as  they  should  be  in  the  hall.  She  curtsied  low,  and 
advanced  with  her  son  holding  her  hand,  but  shrinking 
behind  her. 

"Ha,  kinswoman,  is  it  thou  !"  was  her  greeting,  as 
she,  too,  kissed  the  small,  shapely,  white,  but  exceed- 
ingly strong  hand  that  was  extended  to  her ;  "  So  thou 
art  come,  and  high  time  too.  Thou  shouldst  never 
have  gone  a -gadding  to  Hull,  living  in  lodgings, 
awaiting  thine  husband,  forsooth.  Thou  art  over 
young  a  matron  for  such  gear,  and  so  I  told  Diccon 
Talbot  long  ago." 

"  Yea,  madam,"  said  Eichard,  somewhat  hotly, 
"  and  I  made  answer  that  my  Susan  was  to  be  trusted, 
and  truly  no  harm  has  come  thereof." 

"  Ho  !  and  you  reckon  it  no  harm  that  thy  father 
and  mother  were  left  to  a  set  of  feckless,  brainless,  idle 
serving-men  and  maids  in  their  trouble  ?  Why,  none 
would  so  much  as  have  seen  to  th}'  brother's  poor 
body  being  laid  in  a  decent  grave  had  not  I  been  at 
hand  to  take  order  for  it  as  became  a  distant  kinsman 
of  my  lord.  I  tell  thee,  Eichard,  there  must  be  no 
more  of  these  vagabond  seafaring  ways.  Thou  must 
serve  my  lord,  as  a  true  retainer  and  kinsman  is  bound 
— Nay,"  in  reply  to  a  gesture,  "  I  will  not  come  in,  I 


32  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

knoM^  too  well  in  what  ill  order  the  house  is  like  to 
be.  I  did  but  take  my  ride  this  way  to  ask  how  it 
fared  with  tlie  mistress,  and  try  if  I  could  shake  the 
squire  from  his  lethargy,  if  Mrs.  Susan  had  not  had 
the  grace  yet  to  be  here.  How  do  they  ?  "  Then  in 
answer,  "  Thou  must  waken  him,  Diccon — rouse  him, 
and  tell  him  that  I  and  my  lord  expect  it  of  him  that 
he  should  bear  his  loss  as  a  true  and  honest  Christian 
man,  and  not  pule  and  moan,  since  he  has  a  son  left — 
ay,  and  a  grandson.  You  should  breed  your  boy  up 
to  know  his  manners,  Susan  Talbot,"  as  Humfrey  re- 
sisted an  attempt  to  make  him  do  his  reverence  to  my 
lady ;  "  that  stout  knave  of  yours  wants  the  rod. 
Methought  I  heard  you'd  borne  another,  Susan !  Ay ! 
as  I  said  it  would  be,"  as  her  eye  fell  on  tJie  swaddled 
babe  in  a  maid's  arms.  "  No  lack  of  fools  to  eat  up 
the  poor  old  squire's  substance.  A  maid,  is  it  ?  Be- 
shrew  me,  if  your  voyages  will  find  portions  for  all 
your  wenches !  Has  the  leech  let  blood  to  thy  good- 
mother,  Susan  ?  There !  not  one  amongst  you  all 
bears  any  brains.  Knew  you  not  how  to  send  up  to 
the  castle  for  Master  Drewitt  ?  Farewell !  Thou 
wilt  be  at  the  lodge  to-morrow  to  let  me  know  how  it 
fares  with  thy  mother,  when  her  brain  is  cleared  by 
further  blood-letting.  And  for  the  squire,  let  him 
know  that  I  expect  it  of  him  that  he  shall  eat,  and 
show  himself  a  man  !" 

So  saying,  the  great  lady  departed,  escorted  as  far 
as  the  avenue  gate  by  Eichard  Talbot,  and  leaving  the 
family  gratified  by  her  condescension,  and  not  allo\Aing 
to  themselves  how  much  their  feelings  were  chafed. 


ul]  the  captive.  33 


CHAPTER    IIL 

THE   CAPTIVE. 

Death  and  sorrow  seemed  to  have  marked  the  house 
of  Bridgefield,  for  the  old  lady  never  rallied  after  the 
blood-letting  enjoined  by  the  Countess's  medical  science, 
and  her  husband,  though  for  some  months  able  to 
creep  about  the  house,  and  even  sometimes  to  visit  the 
fields,  had  lost  his  memory,  and  became  more  childish 
week  by  week. 

Eichard  Talbot  was  obliged  to  return  to  his  ship  at 
the  end  of  the  month,  but  as  soon  as  she  was  laid  up 
for  the  winter  he  resigned  his  command,  and  returned 
home,  where  he  was  needed  to  assume  the  part  of 
master.  In  truth  he  became  actually  master  before 
the  next  spring,  for  his  father  took  to  his  bed  with 
the  first  winter  frosts,  and  in  spite  of  the  duteous 
cares  lavished  upon  him  by  his  son  and  daughter-in- 
law,  passed  from  his  bed  to  his  grave  at  the  Christmas 
feas];.  Eichard  Talbot  inherited  house  and  lands,  with 
the  undefined  sense  of  feudal  obligation  to  the  head  of 
his  name,  and  ere  long  he  was  called  upon  to  fulfil 
those  obligations  by  service  to  his  lord. 

There  had  been  another  act  in  the  great  Scottish 
tragedy.  Queen  Mary  had  effected  her  escape  from 
Lochleven,  but  only  to  be  at  once  defeated,  a,nd  then  to 

D 


34  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

cross  the  Solway  and  throw  herself  into  the  hands  of 
the  English  Queen. 

Bolton  Castle  had  been  proved  to  be  too  perilously 
near  the  Border  to  serve  as  her  residence,  and  the 
inquiry  at  York,  and  afterwards  at  Westminster,  having 
proved  unsatisfactory,  Elizabeth  had  decided  on  detain- 
ing her  in  the  kingdom,  and  committed  her  to  the 
charge  of  the  Earl  of  Shrewsbury. 

To  go  into  the  history  of  that  ill-managed  investi- 
gation is  not  the  purpose  of  this  tale.  It  is  probable 
that  Elizabeth  believed  her  cousin  guilty,  and  wished 
to  shield  that  guilt  from  being  proclaimed,  while  her 
councillors,  in  their  dread  of  the  captive,  wished  to 
enhance  the  crime  in  Elizabeth's  eyes,  and  were  by  no 
means  scrupulous  as  to  the  kind  of  evidence  they 
adduced.  However,  this  lies  outside  our  story;  all 
that  concerns  it  is  that  Lord  Shrewsbury  sent  a  sum- 
mons to  his  trusty  and  well-beloved  cousin,  Eichard 
Talbot  of  Bridgefield,  to  come  and  form  part  of  the 
guard  of  honour  which  was  to  escort  the  Queen  of 
Scots  to  Tutbury  Castle,  and  there  attend  upon  her. 

All  this  time  no  hint  had  been  given  that  the  little 
Cicely  was  of  alien  blood.  The  old  squire  and  his 
lady  had  been  in  no  state  to  hear  of  the  death  of  their 
own  grandchild,  or  of  the  adoption  of  the  orphan,  and 
Susan  was  too  reserved  a  woman  to  speak  needlessly  of 
her  griefs  to  one  so  unsympathising  as  the  Countess  or  so 
flighty  as  the  daughters  at  the  great  house.  The  .men 
who  had  brouglit  the  summons  to  Hull  had  not  been 
lodged  in  the  house,  but  at  an  inn,  where  they  either 
had  heard  notliing  of  Master  Piichard's  adventure  or  had 
drowned  their  memory  in  ale,  for  they  said  nothing ; 
and  thus,  without  any  formed  intention  of  secrecy, 
the  child's  parentage  had  never  come  into  question. 


III.]  THE  CAPTIVE.  35 

Indeed,  though  without  doubt  Mrs.  Talbot  was 
very  loyal  in  heart  to  her  noble  kinsfolk,  it  is  not 
to  be  denied  that  she  was  a  good  deal  more  at  peace 
when  they  were  not  at  the  lodge.  She  tried  devoutly 
to  follow  out  the  directions  of  my  Lady  Countess,  and. 
thought  herself  in  fault  when  things  went  amiss,  but 
she  prospered  far  more  when  free  from  such  dictation. 

She  had  nothing  to  wish  except  that  her  husband 
could  be  more  often  at  home,  but  it  was  better  to  have 
him  only  a  few  hours'  ride  from  her,  at  Chatsworth  or 
Tutbury,  than  to  know  him  exposed  to  the  perils  of 
the  sea.  He  rode  over  as  often  as  he  could  be  spared, 
to  see  his  family  and  look  after  his  property ;  but  his 
attendance  was  close,  and  my  Lord,  and  my  Lady  were 
exacting  with  one  whom  they  could  thoroughly  trust, 
and  it  was  well  that  in  her  quiet  way  Mistress  Susan 
proved  capable  of  ruling  men  and  maids,  farm  and 
stable  as  well  as  house,  servants  and  children,  to  whom 
another  boy  was  added  in  the  course  of  the  year  after 
her  return  to  Bridgefield. 

In  the  autumn,  notice  was  sent  that  the  Queen  of 
Scots  was  to  be  lodged  at  Sheffield,  and  long  trains  of 
waggons  and  sumpter  horses  and  mules  began  to  arrive, 
bringing  her  plenishing  and  household  stuff  in  advance. 
Servants  without  number  were  sent  on,  both  by  her 
and  by  the  Earl,  to  make  preparations,  and  on  a 
November  day,  tidings  came  that  the  arrival  might 
be  expected  in  the  afternoon.  Commands  were  sent 
that  the  inhabitants  of  the  little  town  at  the  park 
gate  should  keep  within  doors,  and  not  come  forth 
to  give  any  show  of  welcome  to  their  lord  and  lady, 
lest  it  should  be  taken  as  homage  to  tlie  captive 
queen;  but  at  the  Manor-house  there  was  a  little 
family  gathering  to  hail  the  Earl  and  Countess.     It 


36  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

chiefly  consisted  of  ladies  with  their  children,  the 
husbands  of  most  being  in  the  suite  of  the  Eaii  acting 
as  escort  or  guard  to  the  Queen.  Susan  Talbot,  being 
akin  to  the  family  on  both  sides,  was  there  with  the 
two  elder  children ;  Humfrey,  both  that  he  might 
greet  his  father  the  sooner,  and  that  he  might  be  able 
to  remember  the  memorable  arrival  of  the  captive 
queen,  and  Cicely,  because  he  had  clamoured  loudly 
for  her  company.  Lady  Talbot,  of  the  Herbert  blood, 
wife  to  the  heir,  was  present  with  two  young  sisters- 
in-law.  Lady  Grace,  daughter  to  the  Earl,  and  Mary, 
daughter  to  the  Countess,  wdio  had  been  respectively 
married  to  Sir  Henry  Cavendish  and  Sir  Gilbert  Tal- 
bot, a  few  weeks  before  their  respective  parents  were 
wedded,  when  the  brides  were  only  twelve  and  fourteen 
years  old.  There,  too,  was  Mrs.  Babington  of  Dethick, 
the  recent  widow  of  a  kinsman  of  Lord  Shrewsbury,  to 
whom  had  been  granted  the  wardship  of  her  son,  and 
the  little  party  waiting  in  the  hall  also  numbered 
Elizabeth  and  William  Cavendish,  the  Countess's 
youngest  children,  and  many  dependants  mustered  in 
the  background,  ready  for  the  reception.  Indeed,  the 
castle  and  manor-house,  with  their  offices,  lodges,  and 
outbuildings,  were  an  absolute  little  city  in  themselves. 
The  castle  was  still  kept  in  perfect  repair,  for  the 
battle  of  Bosworth  was  not  quite  beyond  the  memory 
of  living  men's  fathers ;  and  besides,  who  could  tell 
whether  any  day  England  might  not  have  to  be  con- 
tested inch  by  inch  with  the  Spaniard  ?  So  the 
gray  walls  stood  on  the  tongue  of  land  in  the  valley, 
formed  by  the  junction  of  the  rivers  Sheaf  and  Dun, 
with  towers  at  all  the  gateways,  enclosing  a  space  of 
no  less  than  eight  acres,  and  with  the  actual  fortress, 
crisp,  strong,  hard,  and  unmouldered  in  the  midst,  its 


III.]  THE  CAPTIVE.  37 

tallest  square  tower  serving  as  a  look-out  place  for 
those  who  watched  to  give  the  first  intimation  of  the 
xrrival. 

The  castle  had  its  population,  but  chiefly  of  grooms, 
warders,  and  their  families.  The  state-rooms  high  up 
in  that  square  tower  were  so  exceedingly  confined, 
so  stern  and  grim,  that  the  grandfather  of  the  pre- 
sent earl  had  built  a  manor-house  for  his  family 
residence  on  the  sloping  ground  on  the  farther  side  of 
the  Dun. 

This  house,  built  of  stone,  timber,  and  brick,  with 
two  large  courts,  two  gardens,  and  three  yards,  covered 
nearly  as  much  space  as  the  castle  itself.  A  pleasant, 
smooth,  grass  lawn  lay  in  front,  and  on  it  converged 
the  avenues  of  oaks  and  walnuts,  stretching  towards 
the  gates  of  the  park,  narrowing  to  the  eye  into  single 
lines,  then  going  absolutely  out  of  sight,  and  the  sea  of 
foliage  presenting  the  utmost  variety  of  beautiful  tints 
of  orange,  yellow,  brown,  and  red.  There  was  a  great 
gateway  between  two  new  octagon  towers  of  red  brick, 
with  battlements  and  dressings  of  stone,  and  from  this 
porch  a  staircase  led  upwards  to  the  great  stone-paved 
hall,  with  a  huge  fire  burning  on  the  open  hearth. 
Around  it  had  gathered  the  ladies  of  the  Talbot 
family  waiting  for  the  reception.  The  warder  on  the 
tower  had  blown  his  horn  as  a  signal  that  the  master 
and  his  royal  guest  were  within  the  park,  and  the 
banner  of  the  Talbots  had  been  raised  to  announce 
their  coming,  but  nearly  half  an  hour  must  pass  while 
the  party  came  along  the  avenue  from  the  drawbridge 
over  the  Sheaf  ere  they  could  arrive  at  the  lodge. 

So  the  ladies,  in  full  state  dresses,  hovered  over  the 
fire,  while  the  children  played  in  the  window  seat  near 
at  hand. 


38  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

Gilbert  Talbot's  wife,  a  tliin,  yellow-haired,  young 
creature,  promising  to  be  like  her  mother,  the  Countess, 
had  a  tongue  which  loved  to  run,  and  with  the  preco- 
city and  importance  of  wifehood  at  sixteen,  she  dilated 
to  her  companions  on  her  mother's  constant  attendance 
on  the  Queen,  and  the  perpetual  plots  for  that  lady's 
escape.  "  She  is  as  shifty  and  active  as  any  cat-a- 
mount ;  and  at  Chatsworth  she  had  a  scheme  for  being 
off  out  of  her  bedchamber  window  to  meet  a  traitor 
fellow  named  EoU ;  but  my  husband  smelt  it  out  in 
good,  time,  and  had  the  guard  beneath  my  lady's 
window,  and  the  fellows  are  in  gyves,  and  to  see  the 
lady  the  day  it  was  found  out !  Not  a  wry  face  did 
she  make.  Oh  no  !  'Twas  all  my  good  lord,  and  my 
sweet  sir  with  her.  I  promise  you  butter  would  not 
melt  in  her  mouth,  for  my  Lord  Treasurer  Cecil  hath 
been  to  see  her,  and  he  has  promised  to  bring  her  to 
speech  of  her  Majesty.  May  I  be  there  to  see.  I  pro- 
mise you  'twill  be  diamond  cut  diamond  between  them." 

"How  did  she  and  my  Lord  Treasurer  fare  to- 
gether?" asked  Mrs.  Babington. 

-  "  Well,  you  know  there's  not  a  man  of  them  all  that 
is  proof  against  her  blandishments.  Her  Majesty 
should  have  women  warders  for  her.  'Twas  good 
sport  to  see  the  furrows  in  his  old  brow  smoothing  out 
against  his  will  as  it  were,  while  she  plied  him  with 
her  tongue.  I  never  saw  the  Queen  herself  win  such  a 
sndle  as  came  on  his  lips,  but  then  lie  is  always  a  sort 
of  master,  or  tutor,  as  it  were,  to  the  Queen.  Ay,"  on 
some  exclamation  from  Lady  Talbot,  "  she  heeds  him 
like  no  one  else.  She  may  fling  out,  and  run  counter 
to  him  for  the  very  pleasure  of  feeling  that  she  has 
the  power,  but  she  will  come  round  at  last,  and  'tis 
bis  will  that  is  done  in  the  long  run.     If  this  lady 


m.]  THE  CAPTIVE.  39 

could  beguile  liim  indeed,  she  miglit  be  a  free  woman 
in  the  end." 

"And  think  you  that  she  did  ?" 

"  Not  she  !  The  Lord  Treasurer  is  too  long-headed, 
and  has  too  strong  a  hate  to  all  Paj)istry,  to  be  beguiled 
more  than  for  the  very  moment  he  was  before  her.  He 
cannot  help  the  being  a  man,  you  see,  and  they  are  all 
alike  when  once  in  her  presence — your  lord  and  father, 
like  the  rest  of  them,  sister  Grace.  Mark  me  if  there 
be  not  tempests  brewing,  an  we  be  not  the  sooner  rid 
of  this  guest  of  ours.  My  mother  is  not  the  woman 
to  bear  it  long." 

Dame  Mary's  tongue  was  apt  to  run  on  too  fast, 
and  Lady  Talbot  interrupted  its  career  with  an  amused 
gesture  towards  the  children. 

For  the  little  Cis,  babe  as  she  was,  had  all  the  three 
boys  at  her  service.  Humfrey,  with  a  paternal  air,  was 
holding  her  on  the  window-seat ;  Antony  Babington 
was  standing  to  receive  the  ball  that  was  being  tossed 
to  and  fro  between  them,  but  as  she  never  caught  it. 
Will  Cavendish  was  content  to  pick  it  up  every  time 
and  return  it  to  her,  aj)pearing  amply  rewarded  by  her 
laugh  of  delight. 

The  two  mothers  could  not  but  laugh,  and  Mrs. 
Babington  said  the  brave  lads  were  learning  their 
knightly  courtesy  early,  while  Mary  Talbot  began 
observing  on  the  want  of  likeness  between  Cis  and 
either  the  Talbot  or  Hardwicke  race.  The  little  girl 
was  much  darker  in  colouring  than  any  of  the  boys,  and 
had  a  pair  of  black,  dark,  heavy  brows,  that  prevented 
her  from  being  a  pretty  child.  Her  adopted  mother 
shrank  from  such  observations,  and  was  rejoiced  that  a 
winding  of  horns,  and  a  shout  from  the  boys,  announced 
that  the  expected  arrival  was  about  to  take  place.     The 


40  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP 

ladies  darted  to  the  window,  and  beholding  the  avenue 
full  of  horsemen  and  liorsewomen,  their  accoutrements 
and  those  of-  their  escort  gleaming  in  the  sun,  each 
mother  gathered  her  own  chicks  to  herself,  smoothed 
the  plumage  somewhat  ruffled  by  sport,  and  advanced 
to  the  head  of  the  stone  steps,  William  Cavendish,  the 
eldest  of  the  boys,  being  sent  down  to  take  his  step- 
father's rein  and  hold  his  stirrup,  page  fashion. 

Clattering  and  jingling  the  troop  arrived.  The 
Earl,  a  stout,  square  man,  with  a  long  narrow  face, 
lengthened  out  farther  by  a  light-coloured,  silky  beard, 
which  fell  below  his  ruff,  descended  from  his  steed, 
gave  his  hat  to  Eichard  Talbot,  and  handed  from  her 
horse  a  hooded  and  veiled  lady  of  slender  proportions, 
who  leant  on  his  arm  as  she  ascended  the  steps. 

The  ladies  knelt,  whether  in  respect  to  the  heads  of 
the  family,  or  to  the  royal  guest,  may  be  doubtfuL 

The  Queen  came  up  the  stairs  with  rheumatic  steps, 
declaring,  however,  as  she  did  so,  that  she  felt  the 
better  for  her  ride,  and  was  less  fatigued  than  when 
she  set  forth.  She  had  the  soft,  low,  sweet  Scottish 
voice,  and  a  thorough  Scottish  accent  and  language, 
tempered,  however,  by  French  tones,  and  as,  coming 
into  the  warmer  air  of  the  hall,  she  withdrew  her 
veil,  her  countenance  was  seen.  Mary  Stuart  was 
only  thirty-one  at  this  time,  and  her  face  was  still 
youthful,  though  worn  and  wearied,  and  beariog  tokens 
of  illness.  The  features  were  far  from"  being  regularly 
beautiful ;  there  was  a  decided  cast  in  one  of  the 
eyes,  and  in  spite  of  all  that  Mary  Talbot's  detracting 
tongue  liad  said,  Susan's  first  impression  was  dis- 
appointment. But,  as  the  Queen  greeted  the  lady 
whom  she  already  knew,  and  the  Earl  presented  his 
daughter,    Lady    Grace,    his    stepdaughter,    Elizabeth 


Ill,]  THE  CAPTIVE.  41 

Cavendish,  and  his  kinswoman,  Mistress  Stisan  Talbot, 
the  extraordinary  magic  of  her  eye  and  lip  beamed  on 
them,  the  queenly  grace  and  dignity  joined  with  a 
wonderful  sweetness  impressed  them  all,  and  each  in 
measure  felt  the  fascination. 

The  Earl  led  the  Qneen  to  the  fire  to  obtain  a  little 
warmth  before  mounting  the  stairs  to  her  own  apart- 
ments, and  likewise  while  Lady  Shrewsbury  was  dis- 
mounting, and  being  handed  up  the  stairs  by  her  second 
stepson,  Gilbert.  The  ladies  likewise  knelt  on  one 
knee  to  greet  this  mighty  dame,  and  the  children 
should  have  done  so  too,  but  little  Cis,  catching  sight 
of  Captain  Eichard,  who  had  come  up  bearing  the 
Earl's  hat,  in  immediate  attendance  on  him,  broke  out 
with  an  exulting  cry  of  "Father!  father!  father!" 
trotted  with  outspread  arms  right  in  front  of  the  royal 
lady,  embraced  the  booted  leg  in  ecstasy,  and  then 
stretching  out,  exclaimed  "  Up  !  up  !" 

"  How  now,  malapert  poppet  ! "  exclaimed  the 
Countess,  and  though  at  some  distance,  uplifted  her 
riding-rod.  Susan  was  ready  to  sink  into  the  earth 
with  confusion  at  the  great  lady's  displeasure,  but 
Eichard  had  stooped  and  lifted  the  little  maid  in  his 
arms,  while  Queen  Mary  turned,  her  face  lit  up  as  by 
a  sunbeam,  and  said,  "  Ah,  bonnibcll,  art  thou  fain 
to  see  thy  father?  Wilt  thou  give  me  one  of  thy 
kisses,  sweet  bairnie  ?"  and  as  Eichard  held  her  up  to 
the  kind  face,  "  A  goodly  child,  brave  sir.  Thou  must 
let  me  have  her  at  times  for  a  playfellow.  Wilt  come 
and  comfort  a  poor  prisoner,  little  sweeting  ?" 

The  child  responded  with  "  Poor  poor,"  stroking  the 
soft  delicate  cheek,  but  the  Countess  interfered,  still 
wrathful.  "  Master  Eicliard,  I  marvel  that  you  should 
let  her  Grace  be  beset  by  a  child,  who,  if  she  cannot 


42  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

demean  herself  decorously,  should  have  been  left  at 
home.  Susan  Hardwicke,  I  thought  I  had  schooled 
you  better." 

"  Nay,  madam,  may  not  a  babe's  <{entle  deed  of 
pity  be  pardoned  ?"  said  Mary. 

"  Oh  !  if  it  pleasures  you,  madam,  so  be  it,"  said 
Lady  Slirewsbury,  deferentially ;  "  but  there  be  children 
here  more  worthy  of  your  notice  than  yonder  little 
black-browed  wench,  who  hath  been  allowed  to  thrust 
herself  forward,  while  others  have  been  kept  back 
from  importuning  your  Grace." 

"  No  child  can  importune  a  mother  who  is  cut  off 
from  her  own,"  said  Mary,  eager  to  make  up  for  the 
jealousy  she  had  excited.  "  Is  this  bonnie  laddie  yours, 
madam  ?  Ah !  I  should  have  known  it  by  the 
resemblance." 

She  held  her  white  hand  to  receive  the  kisses  of 
the  boys  :  William  Cavendish,  under  his  mother's  eye, 
knelt  obediently  ;  Antony  Babington,  a  fair,  pretty  lad, 
of  eight  or  nine,  of  a  beautiful  piuk  and  white  com- 
plexion, pressed  forward  with  an  eager  devotion  which 
made  the  Queen  smile  and  press  her  delicate  hand  on 
his  curled  locks;  as  for  Humfrey,  he  retreated  behind 
the  shelter  of  his  mother's  farthingale,  where  his 
presence  was  forgotten  by  every  one  else,  and,  after 
the  rebuff  just  administered  to  Cicely,  there  was  no 
inclination  to  briug  him  to  light,  or  combat  ^ith  his 
bashfulness. 

The  introductions  over,  Mary  gave  her  hand  to  the 
Earl  to  be  conducted  from  the  hall  up  the  broad  stair- 
case, and  along  the  great  western  gallery  to  the  south 
front,  where  for  many  days  her  properties  had  been  in 
course  of  being  arranged. 

Lady  Shrewsbury  followed  as  mistress  of  the  house, 


III.]  THE  CAPTIVE.  43 

and  behind,  in  order  of  precedence,  came  the  Scottish 
Queen's  household,  in  which  the  dark,  keen  features  of 
the  French,  and  the  rufous  hues  of  the  Scots,  were 
nearly  equally  divided.  Lady  Livingstone  and  Mistress 
Seaton,  two  of  the  Queen's  Maries  of  the  same  age 
with  herself,  came  next,  the  one  led  by  Lord  Talbot, 
the  other  by  Lord  Livingstone.  There  was  also  the 
faithful  French  Marie  de  Courcelles,  paired  with  ]\Taster 
Beatoun,  comptroller  of  the  household,  and  Jean 
Kennedy,  a  stiff  Scotswoman,  whose  hard  outlines 
did  not  do  justice  to  her  tenderness  and  fidelity,  and 
with  her  was  a  tall,  active,  keen-faced  stripling,  looked 
on  with  special  suspicion  by  the  English,  as  Willie 
Douglas,  the  contriver  of  the  Queen's  flight  from  Loch- 
leven.  Two  secretaries,  French  and  Scottish,  were 
shrewdly  suspected  of  being  priests,  and  there  were 
besides,  a  physician,  surgeon,  apothecary,  with  per- 
fumers, cooks,  pantlers,  scullions,  lacqueys,  to  the 
number  of  thirty,  besides  their  wives  and  attendants, 
these  last  being  "  permitted  of  my  lord's  benevolence." 

They  were  all  eyed  askance  by  the  sturdy,  north 
country  English,  who  naturally  hated  all  strangers, 
above  all  French  and  Scotch,  and  viewed  the  band  of 
captives  much  like  a  caged  herd  of  wild  beasts. 

When  on  the  way  home  Mistress  Susan  asked  her 
little  boy  why  he  would  not  make  his  obeisance  to  the 
pretty  lady,  he  sturdily  answered,  "  She  is  no  pretty 
lady  of  mine.  She  is  an  evil  woman  who  slew  her 
husband." 

"  Poor  lady !  tongues  have  been  busy  with  her,"  said 
Ills  father. 

"  How,  sir  ?"  asked  Susan,  amazed,  "  do  you  think 
her  guiltless  in  the  matter  ? " 

"  I  cannot  tell,"  returned  liichard.     "  All  I  know  ia 


44  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

that  many  who  liave  no  mercy  on  her  would  change 
their  minds  if  they  beheld  her  patient  and  kindly 
demeanour  to  all." 

This  was  a  sort  of  sliock  to  Susan,  as  it  seemed  to 
her  to  prove  the  truth  of  little  Lady  Talbot's  words, 
that  no  one  was  proof  against  Queen  Mary's  wiles ; 
but  she  was  happy  in  having  her  husband  at  home 
once  more,  though,  as  he  told  her,  he  would  be  occu- 
pied most  of  each  alternate  day  at  Sheffield,  he  and 
another  relation  having  been  appointed  "gentlemen 
porters,"  which  meant  that  they  were  to  wait  in  a 
chamber  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  and  keep  watch  over 
whatever  went  in  or  out  of  the  apartments  of  the 
captive  and  her  suite. 

"  And,"  said  Richard,  "  who  think  you  came  to  see 
me  at  Wingfield  ?  None  other  than  Cuthbert  Lang- 
ston." 

"  Hath  he  left  his  merchandise  at  Hull  ?" 

"  Ay,  so  he  saith.  He  would  fain  liave  had  my 
good  word  to  my  lord  for  a  post  in  the  household,  as 
comptroller  of  accounts,  clerk,  or  the  like.  It  seemed 
as  though  there  were  no  office  he  would  not  take  so 
tbat  he  might  hang  about  the  neighbourhood  of  this 
queen." 

"  Then  you  would  not  grant  him  your  recommend- 
ation ? " 

"  Nay,  truly.  I  could  not  an.swer  for  him,  and  his 
very  anxiety  made  me  the  more  bent  on  not  bringing' 
him  hither.  I'd  fain  serve  in  no  ship  where  I  know 
not  the  honesty  of  all  the  crew,  and  Cuthbert  hath  ever 
had  a  hankering  after  the  old  profession." 

"  Verily  then  it  were  not  well  to  bring  him  hither." 

"  Moreover,  he  is  a  lover  of  mysteries  and  schemes," 
said  Richard.      "  He  would   never   be  content   to  let 


III.]  THE  CAPTIVE.  45 

alone  the  question  of  our  little  wenvih's  birth,  and 
would  be  fretting  us  for  ever  about  the  matter." 

"  Did  he  speak  of  it  ? " 

"  Yea.  He  would  have  me  to  "v^'it  that  a  nurse  and 
babe  had  been  put  on  board  at  Dumbarton.  Well, 
said  I,  and  so  they  must  have  been,  since  on  board 
they  were.  Is  that  all  thou  hast  to  tell  me  ?  And 
mighty  as  was  the  work  he  would  liave  made  of  it, 
this  was  all  he  seemed  to  know.  I  asked,  in  my  turn, 
how  he  came  to  know  thus  much  about  a  vessel  sailing 
from  a  port  in  arms  against  the  Lords  of  the  Congrega- 
tion, the  allies  of  her  Majesty?" 

"  What  said  he  ?" 

"  That  his  house  had  dealings  with  the  owners  of 
the  Bride  of  Dmibar.  I  like  not  such  dealings,  and  so 
long  as  this  lady  and  her  train  are  near  us,  I  would  by 
no  means  have  him  whispering  here  and  there  that  she 
is  a  Scottish  orphan." 

"It  would  chafe  my  Lady  Countess  !"  said  Susan, 
to  whom  this  was  a  serious  matter.  "  Yet  doth  it 
not  behove  us  to  endeavour  to  find  out  her  parentage  ?" 

"  I  tell  you  I  proved  to  myself  that  he  knew 
nothing,  and  all  that  we  have  to  do  is  to  hinder  liim 
from  making  mischief  out  of  that  little,"  returned 
Richard  impatiently. 

The  honest  captain  could  scarcely  have  told  the 
cause  of  his  distrust  or  of  his  secrecy,  but  he  had  a 
general  feeling  that  to  let  an  intriguer  like  Cuthljert 
Langston  rake  up  any  tale  that  could  be  connected 
with  the  party  of  the  captive  queen,  could  only  lead 
tx)  danger  and  trouble. 


46  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOKY,  [CHAP. 


CHAPTER   IT. 

THE  OAK  AND  THE  OAKEN  HALL. 

The  oaks  of  Sheffield  Park  were  one  of  the  greatest 
glories  of  the  place.  Giants  of  the  forest  stretched 
their  huge  arms  over  the  turf,  kept  smooth  and  velvety 
by  the  creatures,  wild  and  tame,  that  browsed  on  it, 
and  made  tlieir  covert  in  the  deep  glades  of  fern  and 
copsewood  that  formed  the  background. 

There  were  not  a  few  whose  huge  trunks,  of  such 
girth  that  two  men  together  could  not  encompass  them 
with  outstretched  arms,  rose  to  a  height  of  more  than 
sixty  feet  before  throwing  out  a  horizontal  branch,  and 
these  branches,  almost  trees  in  themselv^es,  spread 
forty-eight  feet  on  each  side  of  the  bole,  lifting  a 
mountain  of  rich  verdure  above  them,  and  casting  a 
delicious  shade  upon  the  ground  beneath  them.  Beneath 
one  of  these  noble  trees,  some  years  after  the  arrival 
of  the  hapless  Mary  Stuart,  a  party  of  children  were 
playing,  much  to  the  amusement  of  an  audience  of 
which  they  were  utterly  unaware,  namely,  of  sundry 
members  of  a  deer-hunting  party ;  a  lady  and  gentle- 
man who,  having  become  ^parated  from  the  rest, 
were  standing  in  the  deep  bracken,  which  rose  nearly 
as  high  as  their  heads,  and  were  further  sheltered  by  a 
rock,  looking  and  listening. 


IV.]        THE  OAK  AND  THE  OAKEN  HALL.         47 

"  Now  then,  Cis,  bravely  doue !      Show  how  she 

treats  her  ladies " 

.     "Who  will  be  her  lady  ?     Thou  must,  Humfrey  !" 

"'No,  no,  I'll  never  be  a  lady,"  said  Humfrey, 
gruffly. 

"  Thou  then,  Diccon." 

"  No,  no,"  and  the  little  fellow  shrank  back,  "  thou 
wilt  hurt  me,  Cis." 

"  Come  then,  do  thou,  Tony !    I'll    not    strike  too 
hard !" 
'     "  As  if  a  wench  could  strike  too  hard." 

"  He  might  have  turned  that  more  chivalrously," 
whispered  the  lady  to  her  companion,  "  What  are 
they  about  to  represent  ?  Mort  de  ma  vie,  the  profane 
little  imps  !  I  believe  it  is  my  sacred  cousin,  the 
Majesty  of  England  herself !  Truly  the  little  maid 
hath  a  bearing  that  might  serve  a  queen,  though  she 
be  all  too  black  and  beetle-browed  for  Queen  Elizabeth, 
Who  is  she.  Master  Gilbert?" 

"  She  is  Cicely  Talbot,  daughter  to  the  gentleman 
porter  of  your  Majesty's  lodge," 

"  See  to  her — mark  her  little  dignity  with  her 
heather  and  bluebell  crown  as  she  sits  on  the  rock,  as 
stately  as  jewels  could  make  her!  See  her  gesture 
with  her  hands,  to  mark  where  the  standing  ruff 
ought  to  be.  She  hath  the  true  spirit  of  the  comedy 
—  ah!  and  here  cometh  young  Antony  with  mincing 
pace,  with  a  dock-leaf  for  a  fan,  and  a  mantle  for  a 
farthingale!     She  speaks  !  now  hark!" 

"  Good  morrow  to  you,  my  young  mistress,"  began  a 
voice  pitched  two  notes  higher  tlian  its  actual  childlike 
key.  "  Thou  hast  a  new  farthingale,  I  see  !  0  Antony, 
that's  not  the  way  to  curtsey — do  it  like  tlr's.  No, 
no  !  thou  clumsy  fellow — back  and  knees  together," 


48  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CKy\P. 

"Never  mind,  Cis,"  interposed  one  of  the  boys — ■ 
"  we  shall  lose  all  our  play  time  if  you  try  to  make 
him  do  it  with  a  grace.  Curtsies  are  women's  work 
— go  on." 

"  Where  was  I  ?  0 — "  (resuming  her  dignity  after 
these  asides)  "  Thou  hast  a  new  fartliingale,  I  see." 

"  To  do  my  poor  honour  to  your  Grace's  birthday. 

"  Oh  ho  !  Is  it  so  ?  Methought  it  had  been  to  do 
honour  to  my  fair  mistress's  own  taper  waist.  And 
pray  how  much  an  ell  was  yonder  broidered  stuff?" 

"  Two  crowns,  an't  please  your  Grace,"  returned 
the  supposed  lady,  making  a  wild  conjecture. 

"  Two  crowns !  thou  foolish  Antony  ! "  Then 
recollecting  herself,  "  two  crowns  !  what,  when  mine 
costs  but  half!  Thou  presumptuous,  lavish  varlet — 
no,  no,  wench  !  what  right  hast  thoa  to  wear  gowns 
finer  than  thy  liege  ? — I'll  teach  you."  Wherewith, 
erecting  all  her  talons,  and  clawing  frightfully  with 
them  in  the  air,  the  supposed  Queen  Bess  leapt  at  the 
unfortunate  maid  of  honour,  appeared  to  tear  the 
imaginary  robe,  and  drove  her  victim  off  the  stage 
with  a  great  air  of  violence,  amid  peals  of  laughter 
from  the  other  cliildren,  loud  enough  to  drown  those 
of  the  elders,  who  could  hardly  restrain  their  merri- 
ment. Gilbert  Talbot,  however,  had  been  looking 
about  him  anxiously  all  the  time,  and  would  fain  have 
moved  away ;  but  a  sign  from  Queen  Mary  withheld 
him,  as  one  of  the  children  cried, 

"  Now  !  show  us  how  she  serves  her  lords." 

The  play  seemed  well  understood  between  them, 
for  the  mimic  queen  again  settled  herself  on  her 
throne,  while  Will  Cavendisli,  calling  out,  "  Now  I'm 
Master  Hatton,"  began  to  tread  a  stately  measure  on 
the  grass,  while  tlie  queen  exclaimed,  "  Who  is  this 


IV.]        THE  OAK  AND  THE  OAKEN  HALL.         49 

new  star  of  my  court  ?  What  stalwart  limbs,  what 
graceful  tread  !     Who  art  thou,  sir  ?" 

"  Madam,!  am — I  am.   Wliat  is  it?  An  ef — ef " 

"  A  daddy-long-legs,"  mischievously  suggested  an- 
other of  the  group. 

"  No,  it's  Latin.  Is  it  Ephraim  ?  No  ;  it's  a  fly, 
something  like  a  gnat "  (then  at  an  impatient  gesture 
from  her  Majesty)  "  disporting  itself  in  the  beams  of 
the  noontide  sun." 

"  Blood-sucking,"  whispered  the  real  Queen  behind 
the  fern.  "  He  is  not  so  far  out  there.  See  !  see  ! 
with  what  a  grace  the  child  holds  out  her  little  hand 
for  him  to  kiss.  I  doubt  me  if  Elizabeth  herself  could 
be  more  stately.      But  who  comes  here  ?" 

"  I'm  Sir  Philip  Sydney." 

"  No,  no,"  shouted  Humfrey,  "  Sir  Philip  shall  not 
come  into  this  fooling.  My  father  says  he's  the  best 
knight  in  England." 

"  He  is  as  bad  as  the  rest  in  flattery  to  the  Queen," 
returned  youug  Cavendish. 

"  I'll  not  have  it,  I  say.  You  may  be  Lord  Lei- 
cester an  you  will !     He's  but  Eobin  Dudley." 

"  Ah  !"  began  the  lad,  now  advancing  and  shading 
his  eyes.  "  What  burnished  splendour  dazzles  my 
weak  sight  ?  Is  it  a  second  Juuo-  that  I  behold,  or 
lovely  Venus  herself  ?  Nay,  there  is  a  wisdom  in  her 
that  can  only  belong  to  the  great  Minerva  herself! 
So  youthful  too.     Is  it  Hebe  descended  to  this  earth  ?" 

Cis  smirked,  and  held  out  a  hand,  saying  in  an 
affected  tone,  "  Lord  Earl,  are  tliy  wits  astray  ?" 

"Whose  wits  would  not  be  perturbed  at  the  mere 
sight  of  such  exquisite  beauty  ?" 

"  Come  and  sit  at  our  feet,  and  we  will  try  to  restore 
them,"  ?aid  the  stage  queen  ;  but  here  little  Diccon, 

E 


50  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAp. 

tlie  yoTingest  of  the  party,  eager  for  more  action,  called 
out,  "  Show  us  how  she  treats  her  lords  and  ladies 
together." 

On  which  young  Babington,  as  the  lady,  and 
Hunifrey,  made  demonstrations  of  love-making  and 
betrothal,  upon  whicli  their  sovereign  lady  descended 
on  them  with  furious  tokens  of  indignation,  abusing  thein 
right  and  left,  until  in  the  midst  the  great  castle  bell 
pealed  forth,  and  caused  a  flight  general,  being,  in  fact, 
the  summons  to  the  school  kept  in  one  of  the  castle 
chambers  by  one  Master  Snigg,  or  Sniggius,  for  the 
children  of  the  numerous  colony  who  peopled  the 
castle.  Girls,  as  well  as  boys,  were  taught  there,  and 
thus  Cis  accompanied  Humfrey  and  Diccon,  and  con- 
sorted with  their  companions. 

Queen  Mary  was  allowed  to  hunt  and  take  out-of- 
door  exercise  in  the  park  whenever  she  pleased,  but 
Lord  Shrewsbury,  or  one  of  his  sons,  Gilbert  and 
Francis,  never  was  absent  from  her  for  a  moment 
when  she  went  beyond  the  door  of  the  lesser  lodge, 
which  the  Earl  had  erected  for  her,  with  a  flat,  leaded, 
and  parapeted  roof,  where  she  could  take  the  air,  and 
with  only  one  entrance,  where  was  stationed  a  "  gentle- 
man porter,"  with  two  subordinates,  whose  business  it 
was  to  keep  a  close  watch  over  every  person  or  thing 
that  went  in  or  out.  If  she  had  any  purpose  of  losing 
herself  in  the  thickets  of  fern,  or  copsewood,  in  the 
park,  or  holding  unperceived  conference  under  shelter 
of  the  chase,  these  plans  were  rendered  impossible  by 
the  pertinacious  presence  of  one  or  other  of  the  Talbots, 
who  acted  comj)letely  up  to  their  name. 

Thus  it  was  that  the  Queen,  with  Gilbert  in  close 
attendance,  had  found  herself  an  unseen  spectator  of 
the  children's  performance,  which  she  watched  with 


IV.]        THE  OAK  AND  THE  OAKEN  HALL.         51 

the  keen  enjoyment  that  sometimes  made  her  fci'get  her 
troubles  for  the  moment. 

"How  got  the  imps  such  knowledge  ?"  mused  Gil- 
bert Talbot,  as  he  led  the  Queen  out  on  the  sward 
"which  had  been  the  theatre  of  their  mimicry. 

"Do  you  ask  that,  Sir  Gilbert?"  said  the  Queen 
with  emphasis,  for  indeed  it  was  his  wife  who  had  been 
the  chief  retailer  of  scandal  about  Queen  Elizabeth, 
to  the  not  unwilling  ears  of  herself  and  his  mother ; 
and  Antony  Babington,  as  my  lady's  page,  had  but 
used  his  opportunities. 

"  They  are  insolent  varlets  and  deserve  the  rod," 
continued  Gilbert. 

"You  are  too  ready  with  the  rod,  you  English," 
returned  Mary.  "  You  flog  all  that  is  clever  and 
spirited  out  of  your  poor  children  !" 

"  That  is  the  question,  madam.  Have  the  English 
been  found  so  deficient  in  spirit  compared  with  other 
nations  ?" 

"  Ah !  we  all  know  what  you  English  can  say  for 
yourselves,"  returned  the  Queen.  "  See  what  Master 
John  Coke  hath  made  of  the  herald's  argument  before 
Dame  Eenown,  in  his  translation.  He  hath  twisted 
all  the  other  way." 

"  Yea,  madam,  but  the  French  herald  had  it  all  his 
own  way  before.  So  it  was  but  just  we  should  have 
our  turn." 

Here  a  cry  from  tlie  other  hunters  greeted  them, 
and  they  found  Lord  Shrewsbury,  some  of  the  ladies, 
and  a  number  of  prickers,  looking  anxiously  for 
them. 

"  Here  we  are,  good  my  lord,"  said  the  Queen,  wlio, 
when  free  from  rheumatism,  was  a  most  active  walker. 
"  We  have  only  been  stalking  my  sister  Queen's  court 


52  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAF 

in  small,  the  prettiest  and  drollest  ])astime  1  have  seen 
for  many  a  long  day." 

]\Iucli  had  happened  in  the  conrse  of  the  past  years. 
The  intrigues  with  Northumberland  and  Norfolk,  and 
the  secret  efforts  of  the  unfortunate  Queen  to  obtain 
friends,  and  stir  up  enemies  against  Elizabeth,  had 
resulted  in  her  bonds  being  drawn  closer  and  closer. 
The  Eising  of  the  North  had  taken  place,  and  Cuth- 
bert  Langston  had  been  heard  of  as  taking  a  prominent 
part  beneath  the  sacred  banner,  but  he  had  been 
wounded  and  not  since  heard  of,  and  his  kindred  knew 
not  whether  he  were  among  the  unnamed  dead  who 
loaded  the  trees  in  the  rear  of  the  army  of  Sussex,  or 
whether  he  had  escaped  beyond  seas.  Eichard  Talbot 
still  remained  as  one  of  the  trusted  kinsmen  of  Lord 
Shrewsbury,  on  whom  that  nobleman  depended  for  the 
execution  of  the  charge  which  yearly  became  more  weari- 
some and  onerous,  as  hope  decayed  and  plots  thickened. 

Though  resident  in  the  new  lodge  with  her  train, 
it  was  greatly  diminished  by  the  dismissal  from  time 
to  time  of  persons  who  were  regarded  as  suspicious; 
Mary  still  continued  on  intimate  terms  with  Lady 
Shrewsbury  and  her  daughters,  specially  distinguishing 
with  her  favour  Bessie  PieiTepoint,  the  eldest  grandchild 
of  the  Countess,  who  slept  with  her,  and  was  her  play- 
thing and  her  pupil  in  French  and  needlework.  The 
fiction  of  her  being  guest  and  not  prisoner  had  not 
entirely  passed  away ;  visitors  were  admitted,  and  she 
went  in  and  out  of  the  lodge,  walked  or  rode  at  will, 
only  under  pretext  of  courtesy.  She  never  was  un- 
accompanied by  the  Earl  or  one  of  his  sons,  and  they 
endeavoured  to  make  all  private  conversation  with 
strangers,  or  jjersons  unauthorised  from  Court,  im- 
possible to  her. 


rV.]  THE   OAK  AND  TBIE  OAKEN  HALL.  53 

The  invitation  given  to  little  Cicely  on  the 
arrival  had  not  been  followed  up.  The  Countess  wished 
to  reserve  to  her  own  family  all  the  favours  of  one  who 
might  at  any  moment  become  the  Queen  of  England, 
and  she  kept  Susan  Talbot  and  her  children  in  what 
she  called  their  meet  place,  in  which  that  good  lady 
thoroughly  acquiesced,  having  her  hands  much  too  full 
of  household  affairs  to  run  after  queens. 

There  was  a  good  deal  of  talk  about  this  child's 
play,  a  thing  which  had  much  better  have  been  left 
where  it  was  ;  but  in  a  seclusion  like  that  of  Sheffield 
subjects  of  conversation  were  not  over  numerous,  and 
every  topic  which  occurred  was  apt  to  be  worried  to 
shreds.  So  Lady  Shrewsbury  and  her  daughters  heard 
the  Queen's  arch  description  of  the  children's  mimicry, 
and  instantly  conceived  a  desire  to  see  the  scene 
repeated.  The  gentlemen  did  not  like  it  at  all :  their 
loyalty  was  offended  at  the  insult  to  her  gracious 
Majesty,  and  besides,  what  might  not  happen  if  such 
sports  ever  came  to  her  ears  ?  However,  the  Countess 
ruled  Sheffield ;  and  Mary  Talbot  and  Bessie  Cavendish 
ruled  the  Countess,  and  they  were  bent  on  their  own 
way.  So  the  representation  was  to  take  place  in  the 
great  hall  of  the  manor-house,  and  the  actors  were  to 
be  dressed  in  character  from  my  lady's  stores. 

"  They  will  ruin  it,  these  clumsy  English,  after  their 
own  fashion,"  said  Queen  Mary,  among  her  ladies.  "  It 
was  the  unpremeditated  grace  and  innocent  audacity  of 
the  little  ones  that  gave  the  charm.  Now  it  will  be  a 
mere  broad  farce,  worthy  of  Bess  of  Hardwicke.  Mais 
que  voulez  vons  ?" 

The  performance  was,  however,  laid  under  a  great 
disadvantage  by  the  absolute  refusal  of  Eichard  and 
Susan  Talbot  to  allow  their  Cicely  to  assume  the  part 


54  UNKNOWN  TO  IIISTORV'.  [CHAP. 

of  Queen  Elizabeth.  They  had  been  dismayed  at  her 
doing  so  in  child's  ph\y,  and  since  she  could  read 
fluently,  write  pretty  well,  and  cipher  a  little,  the  good 
mother  had  decided  to  put  a  stop  to  this  free  associa- 
tion with  the  boys  at  the  castle,  and  to  keep  her  at 
home  to  study  needlework  and  housewifery.  As  to 
her  acting  with  boys  before  the  assembled  households, 
the  proposal  seemed  to  them  absolutely  insulting  to 
any  daughter  of  tlie  Talbot  liue,  and  they  had  by  this 
time  forgotten  that  she  was  no  such  thiug.  Bess 
Cavendish,  the  special  spoilt  child  of  the  house, 
even  rode  down,  armed  with  her  mother's  commands, 
but  her  feudal  feeling  did  not  here  sway  Mistress 
Susan. 

Public  acting  was  esteemed  an  indignity  for  women,  ■ 
and,  though  Cis  was  a  mere  child,  all   Susan's  woman- 
hood  awoke,  and   she   made   answer   lirndy  that   she 
could  not  obey  my  Lady  Countess  in  this. 

Bess  flounced  out  of  the  house,  indignantly  telling 
her  she  should  rue  the  day,  and  Cis  herself  cried  pas- 
sionately, longing  after  the  fine  robes  and  jewels,  and 
the  presentation  of  herself  as  a  queen  before  the  whole 
company  of  the  castle.  The  harsh  system  of  the  time 
made  the  good  mother  think  it  her  duty  to  requite 
this  rebellion  with  the  rod,  and  to  set  the  child  down 
to  her  seam  in  the  corner,  and  there  sat  Cis,  pouting 
and  brooding  over  what  Antony  Babiiigton  had  told 
her  of  what  he  had  picked  up  when  in  his  page's 
capacity,  attending  his  lady,  of  Queen  Mary's  admira- 
tion of  the  pretty  ways  and  airs  of  the  little  mimic 
Queen  Bess,  till  she  felt  as  if  she  were  defrauded  of 
her  due.  The  captive  Queen  was  her  dream,  and  to 
hear  her  commendations,  j)erhaps  be  kissed  by  her, 
would  be   supreme   bliss.     Nay,  she  still  hoped  that 


IV.]        THE  OAK  AND  THE  OAKEN  HALL.         55 

there  would  lie  an  interference  of  the  higher  powers 
on  her  behalf,  which  would  give  her  a  triumph. 

No !  Captain  Talbot  came  home,  saying,  "  So, 
Mistress  Sue,  thou  art  a  steadfast  woman,  tc/  have 
resisted  my  lady's  will !  " 

"  I  knew,  my  good  husband,  that  thou  wouldst 
never  see  our  Cis  even  in  sport  a  player ! " 

"  Assuredly  not,  and  thou  hadst  the  best  of  it,  for 
when  Mistress  Bess  came  in  as  full  of  wrath  as  a 
petard  of  powder,  and  made  your  refusal  known,  my 
lord  himself  cried  out,  'And  she's  in  the  right  o't ! 
What  a  child  may  do  in  sport  is  not  fit  for  a  gentle- 
woman in  earnest.' " 

"  Then,  hath  not  my  lord  put  a  stop  to  the  whole  ?  " 

"  Fain  would  he  do  so,  but  the  Countess  and  her 
daughters  are  set  on  carrying  out  the  sport.  They 
have  set  Master  Sniggius  to  indite  the  speeches,  and 
the  boys  of  the  school  are  to  take  the  parts  for  their 
autumn  interlude." 

"  Surely  that  is  perilous,  should  it  come  to  the 
knowledge  of  those  at  Court." 

"  Oh,  I  promise  you,  Sniggius  hath  a  device  for 
disguising  all  that  could  give  offence.  The  Queen 
will  become  Semiramis  or  Zenobia,  I  know  not  which, 
and  my  Lord  of  Leicester,  Master  Hatton,  and  the 
others,  will  be  called  Ninus  or  Longiuus,  or  some 
such  heathenish  long-tailed  terms,  and  speak  speeches 
of  mighty  length.  Are  they  to  be  in  Latin,  Hum- 
frey?" 

"  Oh  no,  sir,"  said  Humfrey,  with  a  shudder. 
"  Master  Sniggius  would  have  had  them  so,  but  the 
young  ladies  said  they  would  have  nothing  to  do  with 
the  affair  if  there  were  one  word  of  Latin  uttered.  It 
is  bad  enough  as  it  is.      I  am  to  be  Philidaspes,  an 


56  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CIIAP. 

Assyrian  knight,  and  have  some  speeches  to  learn, 
at  least  one  is  twenty-five  lines,  and  not  one  is  less 
than  five ! " 

"  A  right  requital  for  thy  presumptuous  and  treason- 
able game,  my  son,"  said  his  father,  teasing  him. 

"And  who  is  to  be  the  Queen?"  asked  the  mother. 

"  Antony  Babington,"  said  Humfrey,  "  because  he 
can  amble  and  mince  more  like  a  wench  than  any  of 
us.  The  worse  luck  for  him.  He  will  have  more 
speeches  than  any  one  of  us  to  learn," 

The  report  of  the  number  of  speeches  to  be  learnt 
took  off  the  sting  of  Cis's  disappointment,  though  she 
would  not  allow  that  it  did  so,  declarinQ-  with  truth 
that  she  could  learn  by  hearing  faster  than  any  of  the 
boys.  Indeed,  she  did  learn  all  Humfrey 's  speeches, 
and  Antony's  to  boot,  and  assisted  both  of  them  with 
all  her  might  in  conmiitting  them  to  memory. 

As  Captain  Talbot  had  foretold,  the  boys'  sport 
was  quite  sufficiently  punished  by  being  made  into 
earnest.  Master  Sniggius  was  far  from  merciful  as  to 
length,  and  his  satire  was  so  extremely  remote  that 
Queen  Elizabeth  herself  could  hardly  have  found  out 
that  Zenobia's  fine  moral  lecture  on  the  vanities  of  too 
aspiring  ruffs  was  founded  on  tlie  box  on  the  ear  wliich 
rewarded  poor  Lady  Mary  Howard's  display  of  her 
rich  petticoat,  nor  would  her  cheeks  have  tingled  when 
the  Queen  of  the  East — by  a  bold  adaptation — j)layed 
the  part  of  Lion  in  interrupting  the  interview  of  our 
old  friends  Py ramus  and  Thisbe,  who,  by  an  awful 
anachronism,  were  carried  to  Palmyra.  It  was  no 
plagiarism  from  "Midsummer  Night's  Dream,"  only 
drawn  from  the  common  stock  of  playwrights. 

So,  shorn  of  all  that  was  perilous,  and  only  under- 
stood by  the  initiated,  the  play  took  place  in  the  Castle 


IV.]        THE  OAK  AND  THE  OAKEN  HALL.         57 

Hall,  the  largest  a"\"ailable  place,  with  Queen  Mary 
seated  upou  the  dais,  with  a  canopy  of  State  over  her 
head,  Lady  Shrewsbury  on  a  chair  nearly  as  high,  the 
Earl,  the  gentlemen  and  ladies  of  their  suites  drawn 
np  in  a  circle,  the  servants  where  they  could,  the 
Earl's  musicians  thundering  Avith  drums,  tooting  with 
fifes,  twanging  on  fiddles,  overhead  in  a  gallery.  Cis 
and  Diccon,  on  either  side  of  Susan  Talbot,  gazing  on 
the  stage,  where,  much  encumbered  by  hoop  and  far- 
thingale, and  arrayed  in  a  yellow  curled  wig,  strutted 
forth  Antony  Babington,  declaiming — 

"  Great  Queen  Zenobia  am  I, 
The  Roman  Power  I  defy. 
At  my  Palmyra,  in  the  East, 
I  rule  o'er  every  man  and  beast," 

Here  was  an  allusion  couched  in  the  Eoman  power, 
which  Master  Antony  had  missed,  or  he  would  hardly 
have  uttered  it,  since  he  was  of  a  Eoman  Catholic 
family,  though,  while  in  the  Earl's  household,  he  had 
to  conform  outwardly. 

A  slender,  scholarly  lad,  with  a  pretty,  innocent 
face,  and  a  voice  that  could  "  speak  small,  like  a 
woman,"  came  in  and  announced  himself  thus — 

"  I'm  Thisbe,  an  Assyrian  maid, 
My  robe's  with  jewels  overhiid." 

The  stiff  colloquy  between  the  two  boys,  encumbered 
with  their  dresses,  shy  and  awkward,  and  rehearsing 
their  lines  like  a  task,  was  no  small  contrast  to  the 
merry  impromptu  under  the  oak,  and  the  gq.y,  free 
grace  of  the  children. 

Poor  Philidaspes  acquitted  himself  worst  of  all,  for 
when  done  up  in  a  glittering  suit  of  sham  armour,  with 


58  -UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

a  sword  and  dagger  of  lath,  his  entire  speech,  though 
well   conned,    deserted   him,  and   he   stood   red-faced, 
hesitating,  and  ready  to  cry,  wher.  suddenly  from  the . 
midst  of  the  spectators  there  issu.ed  a  childish  voice, 
"  Go  on,  Hmnfrey  ! 

"  Philidaspes  am  I,  most  valorous  knight, 
Ever  ready  for  Churcli  and  Queen  to  fight. 

"Go  on,  I  say!"  and  she  gave  a  little  stamp  of 
impatience,  to  the  extreme  confusion  of  the  mother  and 
the  great  amusement  of  the  assembled  company. 
Humfrey,  once  started,  delivered  himself  of  the  rest  of 
his  oration  in  a  glum  and  droning  voice,  occasioning 
fits  of  laughter,  such  as  by  no  means  added  to  his  self- 
possession. 

The  excellent  Sniggius  and  his  company  of  boys 
liad  certainly,  whether  intentionally  or  not,  deprived 
the  performance  of  all  its  personal  sting,  and  most 
likewise  of  its  interest.  Such  diversion  as  the  specta- 
tors derived  was  such  as  Hippolyta  seems  to  have  found 
in  listening  to  AVall,  Lion,  Moonshine  and  Co. ;  but, 
like  llieseus,  Lord  Shrewsbury  was  very  courteous,  and 
complimented  both  playwright  and  actors,  relieved  and 
thankful,  no  doubt,  that  Queen  Zenobia  was  so  unlike 
his  royal  mistress. 

There  was  nothing  so  much  enforced  by  Queen 
Elizabeth  as  that  strangers  should  not  have  resort  to 
Sliefheld  Castle.  No  spectators,  except  those  attached 
to  the  household,  and  actually  forming  part  of  the 
colony  within  the  park,  were  therefore  supposed  to  be 
admitted,  and  all  of  them  were  carefully  kept  at  a  dis- 
tant part  of  the  hall,  where  they  could  have  no  access 
to  the  now  much  reduced  train  of  the  Scottish  Queen^ 
witli  whom  all  intercourse  was  forbidden. 


rV.]        THE  OAK  AND  THE  OAKEN  HALL.         59 

Hnmfrey  was  therefore  surprised  when,  just  as  he 
had  come  out  of  the  tiring-room,  glad  to  divest  liimself 
of  his  encumbering  and  gaudy  equipments,  a  man 
touched  him  on  the  arm  and  humbly  said,  "  Sir,  I  have 
a  humble  entreaty  to  make  of  you.  If  you  would 
convey  my  petition  to  the  Queen  of  Scots  !" 

"  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  Queen  of  Scots," 
said  the  ex-Philidaspes,  glancing  suspiciously  at  the 
man's  sleeve,  wliere,  however,  he  saw  the  silver  dog, 
the  family  badge. 

"  She  is  a  charitable  lady,"  continued  the  man,  who 
looked  like  a  groom,  "  and  if  she  only  knew  that  my 
poor  old  aunt  is  lying  famishing,  she  would  aid  her. 
Pray  you,  good  my  lord,  help  me  to  let  this  scroll 
reach  to  her." 

"  I'm  no  lord,  and  I  have  naught  to  do  with  the 
Queen,"  repeated  Humfrey,  while  at  the  same  moment 
Antony,  wdio  had  been  rather  longer  in  getting  out  of 
his  female  attire,  presented  himself ;  and  Humfrey,  pity- 
ing the  man's  distress,  said,  "  This  young  gentleman  is 
the  Countess's  page.      He  sometimes  sees  the  Queen." 

The  man  eagerly  told  his  story,  how  his  aunt,  the 
widow  of  a  huckster,  had  gone  on  with  the  trade  till 
slie  had  been  cruelly  robbed  and  beaten,  and  now  was 
utterly  destitute,  needing  aid  to  set  herself  up  again. 
The  Queen  of  Scots  was  noted  for  her  beneficent  alms- 
giving, and  a  few  silver  pieces  from  her  would  be  quite 
sufficient  to  replenish  lier  basket. 

I'^either  boy  doubted  a  moment.  Antony  had  the 
entrde  to  the  presence  chamber,  where  on  this  festival 
night  the  Earl  and  Countess  were  sure  to  be  with  the 
Queen.  He  went  straightway  thither,  and  traiiied  as 
he  was  in  the  usages  of  the  place,  told  his  business 
to  the  Earl,  who  was  seated  near  the  Queeu.     Lord 


60  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

Shrewsbury  took  the  petition  from  hiiri,  glanced  it 
over,  and  asked,  "  A¥ho  knew  the  Guy  Noruian  who  sent 
it?"  Frank  Talbot  answered  for  him,  that  he  was  a 
yeoman  pricker,  and  the  Earl  permitted  the  paper  to  be 
carried  to  Mary,  watching  her  carefully  as  she  read  it, 
when  Antony  had  presented  it  on  one  knee. 

"  Poor  woman !"  she  said,  "  it  is  a  piteous  case. 
Master  Beatoun,  hast  thou  my  purse  ?  Here,  Master 
Babington,  wilt  thou  be  the  bearer  of  this  angel  for 
me,  since  I  know  that  the  delight  of  being  the  bearer 
w^ill  be  a  reward  to  thy  kind  heart." 

Antony  gracefully  kissed  the  fair  hand,  and  ran 
off  joyously  with  the  Queen's  bounty.  Little  did  any 
one  guess  what  the  career  thus  begun  would  bring  that 
fair  hoy. 


v.]  THE  HUCKSTERING  WOMAN.  61 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  HUCKSTERING  WOMAN. 

The  huckstering  woman,  Tibbott  by  name,  was  tended 
by  Queen  Mary's  apothecary,  and  in  due  time  was  sent 
off  well  provided,  to  the  great  fair  of  York,  whence 
she  returned  with  a  basket  of  needles,  pins  (such  as 
they  were),  bodkins,  and  the  like  articles,  wherewith  to 
circulate  about  Hallamshire,  but  the  gate-wards  would 
not  relax  their  rules  so  far  as  to  admit  her  into  the 
park.  She  was  permitted,  however,  to  bring  her  wares 
to  the  town  of  Sheffield,  and  to  Bridgefield,  but  she 
might  come  no  farther. 

Thither  Antony  Babington  came  down  to  lay  out 
the  crown  which  had  been  given  to  him  on  his  birth- 
day, and  indeed  half  Master  Sniggius's  scholars  dis- 
covered needs,  and  came  down  either  to  spend,  or  to 
give  advice  to  the  happy  owners  of  groats  and  testers. 
So  far  so  good ;  but  the  huckster- woman  soon  made 
Bridgefield  part  of  her  regular  rounds,  and  took  little 
commissions  which  she  executed  for  the  household  of 
Sheffield,  who  were,  as  the  Cavendish  sisters  often  said 
in  their  spleen,  almost  as  much  prisoners  as  the  Queen 
of  Scots.  Antony  Babington  was  always  her  special 
patron,  and  being  Humfrey's  great  companion  and  play- 
fellow, he  was  allowed  to  come  in  and  out  of  the  gates 


62  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

unquestioned,  to  play  with  him  and  with  Cis,  who  no 
longer  went  to  school,  hut  was  trained  at  home  in 
needlework  and  housewifery. 

Match-making  began  at  so  early  an  age,  that  when 
Mistress  Susan  had  twice  found  her  and  Antony 
Babington  with  their  heads  together  over  the  lament- 
able ballad  of  the  cold  fish  that  had  been  a  lady,  and 
which  sang  its  own  history  "  forty  thousand  fathom 
above  water,"  she  began  to  question  whether  the  girl 
were  the  attraction.  He  was  now  an  orphan,  and  his 
wardship  and  marriage  had  been  granted  to  the  Earl, 
who,  having  disposed  of  all  his  daughters  and  step- 
daughters, except  Bessie  Cavendish,  might  very  fairly 
bestow  on  the  daughter  of  his  kinsman  so  good  a 
match  as  the  young  squire  of  Dethick. 

"  Then  should  we  have  to  consider  of  her  parentage," 
said  Eichard,  when  his  wife  had  propounded  her  views. 

"  I  never  can  bear  in  mind  that  the  dear  wench  is 
none  of  ours,"  said  Susan.  "  Thou  didst  say  thou 
wouldst  portion  her  as  if  she  were  our  own  little  maid, 
and  I  have  nine  webs  ready  for  her  household  linen. 
Must  we  speak  of  her  as  a  stranger?" 

"  It  would  scarce  be  just  towards  another  family  to 
let  them  deem  her  of  true  Talbot  blood,  if  she  were  to 
enter  among  them,"  said  Eichard  ;  "  though  I  look  on 
the  little  merry  maid  as  if  she  were  mine  own  child. 
But  there  is  no  need  yet  to  begin  upon  any  such  coil ; 
and,  indeed,  I  would  wager  that  my  lady  hath  other 
views  for  young  Babington." 

After  all,  parents  often  know  very  little  of  what 
passes  in  children's  minds,  and  Cis  never  hinted  to  her 
mother  that  the  bond  of  union  between  her  and  Antony 
was  devotion  to  the  captive  Queen.  Cis  had  only  had  a 
glimpse  or  two  'J  her,  riding  by  when  hunting  or  hawk- 


v.]  THE  HUCKSTERING  WOMAN.  63 

ing,  or  when,  on  festive  occasions,  all  who  were  privileged 
to  enter  the  park  were  mustered  together,  among  whom 
the  Talbots  ranked  high  as  kindred  to  both  Earl  and 
Countess ;  but  those  glimpses  had  been  enough  to  fill 
the  young  heart  with  romance,  such  as  the  matter-of- 
fact  elders  never  guessed  at.  Antony  Babington,  who 
was  often  actually  in  the  gracious  presence,  and  received 
occasional  smiles,  and  even  greetings,  was  immeasur- 
ably devoted  to  the  Queen,  and  maintained  Cicely's 
admiration  by  his  vivid  descriptions  of  the  kindness, 
the  grace,  the  charms  of  tlie  royal  captive,  in  con- 
trast with  the  innate  vulgarity  of  their  own  Countess. 

Willie  Douglas  (the  real  Eoland  Graeme  of  the 
escape  from  Lochleven)  had  long  ago  been  dismissed 
from  Mary's  train,  with  all  the  other  servants  who  were 
deemed  superfluous  ;  but  Antony  had  heard  the  details 
of  the  story  from  Jean  Kennedy  (Mrs.  Kennett,  as  the 
English  were  pleased  to  call  her),  and  Willie  was  the 
hero  of  his  emulative  imagination. 

"  Wliat  would  I  not  do  to  be  like  him!"  he  fervently 
exclaimed  when  he  had  narrated  the  story  to  Humfrey 
and  Cis,  as  they  lay  on  a  nest  in  the  fern  one  fine 
autumn  day,  resting  after  an  expedition  to  gather 
blackberries  for  the  mother's  preserving. 

"  I  would  not  be  him  for  anything,"  said  Humfrey. 

"  Fie,  Humfrey,"  cried  Cis  ;  "  would  not  you  dare 
exile  or  anything  else  in  a  good  cause  ? " 

"  For  a  good  ca,use,  ay,"  said  Humfrey  in  his  stolid 
way. 

"  And  what  can  be  a  better  cause  than  that  of  the 
fairest  of  captive  queens  ? "  exclaimed  Antony,  hotly. 

"  I  would  not  be  a  traitor,"  returned  Humfrev,  as 
he  lay  on  liis  back,  looking  up  through  the  chei[uer- 
work  of  the  branches  of  the  trees  towards  the  sky. 


€4  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

"  Who  dares  link  the  word  traitor  with  my  name  ?" 
said  Babington,  feeling  for  the  imaginary  handle  of  a 
sword. 

"  Not  I ;  but  you'll  get  it  linked  if  you  go  on  in 
this  sort." 

"  For  shame,  Humfrey,"  again  cried  Cis,  passion- 
ately. "  Why,  delivering  imprisoned  princesses  always 
was  the  work  of  a  true  knight." 

"  Yea ;  but  they  first  defied  the  giant  openly,"  said 
Humfrey. 

"  What  of  that  ?  "  said  Antony. 

"  They  did  not  do  it  under  trust,"  said  Humfrey. 

"  I  am  not  under  trust,"  said  Antony.  "  Your 
father  may  be  a  sworn  servant  of  the  Earl  and  the 
Queen — Queen  Elizabeth,  I  mean  ;  but  I  have  taken 
no  oaths — nobody  asked  me  if  I  woidd  come  here." 

"  No,"  said  Humfrey,  knitting  his  brows  ;  "  but  you 
see  we  are  all  trusted  to  go  in  and  out  as  we  please, 
on  the  understanding  that  we  do  nought  that  can  be 
unfaithful  to  the  Earl ;  and  I  suppose  it  was  thus  with 
this  same  Willie  Douglas." 

"  She  was  his  own  true  and  lawful  Queen,"  cried 
Cis.     "  His  first  duty  was  to  her." 

Humfrey  sat  up  and  looked  perplexed,  but  with 
a  sudden  thought  exclaimed,  "  No  Scots  are  we,  thanks 
be  to  Heaven  !  and  what  might  be  loyalty  in  him 
would  be  rank  treason  in  us." 

"  How  know  you  that  ? "  said  Antony.  "  I  have 
heard  those  who  say  that  our  lawful  Queen  is  there," 
and  he  pointed  towards  the  walls  that  rose  in  the  dis- 
tance above  the  woods. 

Humfrey  rose  wrathful.  "  Then  truly  you  are  no 
better  than  a  traitor,  and  a  Spaniard,  and  a  Papist," 
and  fists  were  clenched  on  both  sides,  while  Cis  flew 


v.]  THE  HUCKSTERING  WOMAN.  65 

between,  pulling  down  Humfrey's  uplifted  hand,  and 
crying,  "  No,  no  ;  he  did  not  sa}"  he  thought  so,  only 
he  had  heard  it." 

"  Let  him  say  it  again  ! "  growled  Antony,  his  arm 
bared. 

"  No,  don't,  Humfrey  ! "  as  if  she  saw  it  between  his 
clenched  teeth.  "  You  know  you  only  meant  if  Tony 
thought  so,  and  he  didn't.  Now  how  can  you  two  be 
so  foolish  and  unkind  to  me,  to  bring  me  out  for  a 
holiday  to  eat  blackberries  and  make  heather  crowns, 
and  then  go  and  spoil  it  all  with  folly  about  Papists, 
and  Spaniards,  and  grown-up  people's  nonsense  that 
nobody  cares  about  ! " 

Cis  had  a  rare  power  over  both  her  comrades,  and 
her  piteous  appeal  actually  disarmed  them,  since  there 
was  no  one  present  to  make  them  ashamed  of  their 
own  placability.  Grown-up  people's  follies  were 
avoided  by  mutual  consent  through  the  rest  of  the 
walk,  and  the  three  children  parted  amicably  when 
Antony  had  to  return  to  fulfil  his  page's  duties  at  my 
lord's  supper,  and  Humfrey  and  Cis  carried  home  their 
big  basket  of  blackberries. 

When  they  entered  their  own  hall  they  found  their 
mother  engaged  in  conversation  with  a  tall,  stout,  and 
weather-beaten  man,  whom  she  announced — "  See  here, 
my  children,  here  is  a  good  friend  of  your  father's. 
Master  Goatley,  who  was  his  chief  mate  in  all  his 
voyages,  and  hath  now  come  over  all  the  way  from 
Hull  to  see  him  !  He  will  be  here  anon,  sir,  so  soon 
as  the  guard  is  changed  at  tlie  Queen's  lodge.  Mean- 
time, here  are  the  elder  children," 

Diccon,  who  had  been  kept  at  home  by  some  tem- 
porary damage  to  his  foot,  and  little  Edward  were 
devouring  the  sailor  with   their  eyes ;  and  Humfrey 

F 


66  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

and  Cis  were  equally  delighted  with  the  iutioduction, 
especially  as  Master  Goatley  was  just  returned  from 
the  Western  Main,  and  from  a  curious  grass-woven 
basket  which  he  carried  slung  to  his  side,  produced 
sundry  curiosities  in  the  way  of  beads,  shell-work, 
feather-work,  and  a  hatchet  of  stone,  and  even  a  curious 
armlet  of  soft,  dull  gold,  with  pearls  set  in  it.  This 
he  had,  with  great  difficulty,  obtained  on  purpose  for 
Mistress  Talbot,  who  had  once  cured  him  of  a  bad 
festering  hurt  received  on  board  ship. 

The  children  clustered  round  in  ecstasies  of  admira- 
tion and  wonder  as  they  heard  of  the  dark  brown 
natives,  the  curious  expedients  by  which  barter  was 
carried  on  ;  also  of  cruel  Spaniards,  and  of  savage 
fishes,  with  all  the  marvels  of  flying-fish,  corals,  palm- 
trees,  humming  birds — all  that  is  lesson  work  to  our 
modern  youth,  but  was  the  most  brilliant  of  living 
fairy  tales  at  this  Elizabethan  period.  Humfrey  and 
Diccon  were  ready  to  rush  off  to  voyage  that  instant, 
and  even  little  Ned  cried  imitatively  in  his  imjrerfejt 
language  that  he  would  be  "  a  tailor." 

Then  their  father  came  home,  and  joyfully  wel- 
comed and  clasped  hands  with  his  faithful  mate, 
declaring  that  the  sight  did  him  good  ;  and  they  sat 
down  to  supper  and  talked  of  voyages,  till  the  boys' 
eyes'  glowed,  and  they  beat  upon  their  own  knees  with 
the  enthusiasm  that  their  strict  manners  bade  them 
repress  ;  while  their  mother  kept  back  her  sighs  as 
she  saw  them  becoming  infected  with  that  sea  fever  so 
dreaded  by  parents.  Nay,  she  saw  it  in  her  husband 
himself.  She  knew  him  to  be  grievously  weary  of  a 
charge  most  monotonously  dull,  and  only  varied  by 
suspicions  and  petty  detections ;  and  that  he  was 
hungering  and  thirsting  for  his  good  ship  and  to  be 


v.]  THE  HUCKSTERING  WOMAN.  67 

facing:  winds  and  waves.  She  could  hear  his  loncfino;  in 
the  very  sound  of  the  "  Ays  ? "  and  brief  inquiries  by 
which  he  encouraged  Goat^ey  to  proceed  in  the  story 
of  voyages  and  adventures,  and  she  could  not  wonder 
when  Goatley  said,  "  Your  heart  is  in  it  still,  sir. 
Not  one  of  us  all  but  says  it  is  a  pity  such  a  noble 
captain  should  be  lost  as  a  landsman,  with  nothing  to 
do  but  to  lock  the  door  on  a  lady." 

"  Speak  not  of  it,  my  good  Goatley,"  said  Richard, 
hastily,  "  or  you  will  set  me  dreaming  and  make  me 
mad." 

"  Then  it  is  indeed  so,"  returned  Goatley.  "  Where- 
fore then  come  you  not,  sir,  where  a  crew  is  waiting  for 
you  of  as  good  fellows  as  ever  stepped  on  a  deck,  and 
who,  one  and  all,  are  longing  after  such  a  captain 
as  you  are,  sir  ?  Wherefore  hold  back  while  still  in 
your  prime  ?  " 

"  Ask  the  mistress,  there,"  said  Richard,  as  he  saw 
his  Susan's  white  face  and  trembling  fingers,  though 
she  kept  her  eyes  on  her  work  to  prevent  them  from 
betraying  their  tears  and  their  wistfulness. 

"  0  sweet  father,"  burst  forth  Humfrey,  "  do  but 
go,  and  take  me.     I  am  quite  old  enough." 

"  Nay,  Humfrey,  'tis  no  matter  of  liking,"  said  his 
father,  not  wishing  to  prolong  his  wife's  suspense. 
"  Look  you  here,  boy,  my  Lord  Earl  is  captain  of  all 
of  his  name  by  right  of  birth,  and  so  long  as  he  needs 
my  services,  I  have  no  right  to  take  them  from  him. 
Dost  see,  my  boy  ?  " 

Humfrey  reluctantly  did  see.  It  was  a  great  favour 
to  be  thus  argued  with,  and  admitted  of  no  reply. 

Mrs.  Talbot's  heart  rejoiced,  but  she  was  not  sorry 
that  it  was  time  for  her  to  carry  off  Diccon  and  Ned  to 
their  bf.ds,  away  from  the  fascinating  narrative,  and  she 


68  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

would  give  no  respite,  though  Diccon  pleaded  hard. 
In  fact,  the  danger  might  be  the  greatest  to  hiui,  since 
Humfrey,  though  born  within  the  smell  of  the  sea, 
might  be  retained  by  the  call  of  duty  like  his  father.  To 
Cis,  at  least,  she  thought  the  sailor's  conversation  could 
do  no  harm,  little  foreboding  the  words  that  presently 
ensued.  "  And,  sir,  what  befell  the  babe  we  found  in 
our  last  voyage  off  the  Spurn  ?  It  would  methinks  be 
about  the  age  of  this  pretty  mistress." 

Eichard  Talbot  endeavoured  to  telegraph  a  look 
both  of  assent  and  warning,  but  though  Master 
Goatley  would  have  been  sharp  to  detect  the  least 
token  of  a  Spanish  galleon  on  the  most  distant  horizon, 
the  signal  fell  utterly  short.  "  Ay,  sir.  Wliat,  is  it 
so  ?  Bless  me  !  The  very  maiden  !  And  you  have 
bred  her  up  for  your  own." 

"  Sir !  Eather  !  "  cried  Cis,  looking  from  one  to  the 
other,  with  eyes  and  mouth  wide  open. 

"  Soil  ! "  cried  the  sailor,  "  what  have  I  done  ?  I 
beg  your  pardon,  sir,  if  I  have  overhauled  what 
should  have  been  let  alone.  But,"  continued  the 
honest,  but  tactless  man,  "  who  could  have  thought  of 
the  like  of  that,  and  that  the  pretty  maid  never  knew 
it?  Ay,  ay,  dear  heart.  Never  fear  but  that  the 
captain  will  be  good  father  to  you  all  the  same." 

For  Eichard  Talbot  had  held  out  his  arm,  and, 
as  Cis  ran  up  to  him,  he  had  seated  her  on  his 
knee,  and  held  her  close  to  him.  Humfrey  likewise 
started  up  with  an  impulse  to  contradict,  which  was 
suddenly  cut  short  by  a  strange  flash  of  memory,  so 
aU  he  did  was  to  come  up  to  his  father,  and  grasp 
one  of  the  girl's  hands  as  fast  as  he  could.  She 
trembled  and  shivered,  but  there  was  something  in  the 
presence  of  this  strange  man  which  choked  back  all 


v.]  THE  HUCKSTERING  WOMAN.  69 

inquiry,  and  the  silence,  the  vehement  grasp,  and  the 
shuddering,  alarmed  the  captain,  lest  she  might  sud- 
denly go  off  into  a  fit  upon  his  hands. 

. "  This  is  gear  for  mother,"  said  he,  and  taking  her 
up  like  a  baby,  carried  her  off,  followed  closely  by 
Humfrey.  He  met  Susan  coming  down,  asking 
anxiously,  "  Is  she  sick  ?  " 

"  I  hope  not,  mother,"  he  said,  "  but  honest  Goatley, 
thinking  no  harm,  hath  blurted  out  that  which  we 
had  never  meant  her  to  know,  at  least  not  yet  awhile, 
and  it  hath  wrought  strangely  with  her." 

"  Then  it  is  true,  father  ? "  said  Humfrey,  in  rather 
an  awe-stricken  voice,  while  Cis  still  buried  her  face 
on  the  captain's  breast. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  yea,  my  children,  it  is  true  that 
God  sent  us  a  daughter  from  the  sea  and  the  wreck 
when  He  had  taken  our  own  little  maid  to  His  rest. 
But  we  have  ever  loved  our  Cis  as  well,  and  hope 
ever  to  do  so  while  she  is  our  good  child.  Take 
her,  mother,  and  tell  the  children  how  it  befell ;  if  I 
go  not  down,  the  fellow  will  spread  it  all  over  the 
house,  and  happily  none  were  present  save  Humfrey 
and  the  little  maiden." 

Susan  put  the  child  down  on  her  own  bed,  and 
tliere,  with  Humfrey  standing  by,  told  the  history  of 
the  father  carrying  in  the  little  shipwrecked  babe. 
They  both  listened  with  eyes  devouring  her,  but  they 
were  as  yet  too  young  to  ask  questions  about  evi- 
dences, and  Susan  did  not  volunteer  these,  only  when  the 
girl  asked,  "  Then,  have  I  no  name  ?  "  she  answered, 
"  A  godly  minister.  Master  Heatherthwayte,  gave  thee 
the  name  of  Cicely  when  he  christened  thee." 

"  I  marvel  who  I  am  ? "  said  Cis,  f^azing  round  hei; 
as  if  the  world  were  all  new  to  her. 


70  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [cBLVr. 

"  It  does  not  matter,"  said  Ilumfrey,  "  you  are 
just  the  same  to  us,  is  she  not,  mother  ? " 

"  She  is  our  dear  Heaven-sent  child,"  said  the  mother 
tenderly. 

"  But  thou  art  not  my  true  mother,  nor  Humfrey 
nor  Diccon  my  brethren,"  she  said,  stretching  out  her 
hands  like  one  in  the  dark. 

"  If  I'm  not  your  brother,  Cis,  I'll  be  your  husband, 
and  then  you  will  have  a  real  right  to  be  called  Talbot. 
That's  better  than  if  you  were  my  sister,  for  then  you 
would  go  away,  I  don't  know  where,  and  now  you 
will  always  be  mine — mine — mine  very  own." 

And  as  he  gave  Cis  a  hug  in  assurance  of  his 
intentions,  his  father,  who  was  uneasy  about  the 
matter,  looked  in  again,  and  as  Susan,  w^ith  tears  in 
her  eyes,  pointed  to  the  children,  the  good  man  said, 
"  By  my  faith,  the  boy  has  found  the  way  to  cut  the 
knot  —  or  rather  to  tie  it.  What  say  you,  dame  ? 
If  we  do  not  get  a  portion  for  him,  we  do  not  have  to 
give  one  with  her,  so  it  is  as  broad  as  it  is  long,  and  she 
remains  our  dear  child.  Only  listen,  children,  you  are 
both  old  enough  to  keep  a  secret.  Not  one  word  of  all 
this  matter  is  to  be  breathed  to  any  soul  till  I  bid  you." 

'•'  Not  to  Diccon,"  said  Humfrey  decidedly, 

"  Nor  to  Antony  ? "  asked  Cis  wistfully. 

"  To  Antony  ?  No,  indeed  !  What  has  he  to  do 
with  it  ?  Now,  to  your  beds,  children,  and  forget  ail 
about  this  tale." 

"  There,  Humfrey,"  broke  out  Cis,  as  soon  as  they 
were  alone  together,  "  Huckstress  Tibbott  is  a  wise 
V'oman,  whatever  thou  mayest  say." 

"  How  ?  "  said  Humfrey. 

"  Miudst  thou  not  the  day  when  I  ciossed  her  hand 
with  the  tester  father  uave  me  ?  " 


v.]  THE  HUCKSTERING  WOMAN.  71 

"  Wlien  mother  whipped  thee  for  Kstening  to  for- 
tune-tellers, and  wasting  thy  substance.  Ay,  I  mind 
it  well,"  said  Humfrey,  "  and  how  thou  didst  stand 
simpering  at  her  pack  of  lies,  ere  mother  made  thee 
sing  another  tune." 

"  Nay,  Humfrey,  they  were  no  lies,  though  I  thought 
thera  so  then.  She  said  I  was  not  what  I  seemed, 
and  that  the  Talbots'  kennel  would  not  always  hold 
one  of  the  noble  northern  eagles.  So  Humfrey,  sweet 
Humfrey,  thou  must  not  make  too  sure  of  wedding 
me." 

"  I'll  wed  thee  though  all  the  lying  old  gipsy-wives 
in  England  wore  their  false  throats  out  in  screeching 
out  that  I  shall  not,"  cried  Humfrey. 

"  But  she  must  have  known,"  said  Cis,  in  an  awe- 
struck voice  ;  "  the  spirits  must  have  spoken  with  her, 
and  said  that  I  am  none  of  the  Talbots." 

"  Hath  mother  heard  this  ?  "  asked  Humfrey,  re- 
coiling a  little,  but  never  thinking  of  the  more  plau- 
sible explanation. 

"  Oh  no,  no  !  tell  her  not,  Humfrey,  tell  her  not. 
She  said  she  would  whip  me  again  if  ever  I  talked 
again  of  the  follies  that  the  fortune-telling  woman  had 
gulled  me  with,  for  if  they  were  not  deceits,  they  were 
worse.      And,  thou  seest,  they  are  worse,  Humfrey  ! " 

With  which  awe-stricken  concldsion  the  children 
went  off  to  bed. 


72  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOHY.  [CIIAr. 


CHAPTEE  VI. 

THE  BEWITCHED  WHISTLE. 

A  \  fllljD's  point  of  view  is  so  different  from  that  of  a 
gro^^n  person,  that  the  discovery  did  not  make  half 
so  much  difference  to  Cis  as  her  adopted  parents 
expected.  In  fact  it  was  like  a  dream  to  her.  She 
found  her  daily  life  and  her  surroundings  the  same, 
and  her  chief  interest  was — at  least  apparently — how 
soon  she  could  escape  from  psalter  and  seam,  to  play 
with  little  Ned,  and  look  out  for  the  elder  boys  return- 
ing, or  watch  for  the  Scottish  Queen  taking  her  daily 
ride.  Once,  prompted  by  Antony,  Cis  had  made  a 
beautiful  nosegay  of  lilies  and  held  it  up  to^the  Queen 
when  she  rode  in  at  the  gate  on  her  return  from 
Buxton.  She  had  been  rewarded  by  the  sweetest  of 
smiles,  but  Captain  Talbot  had  said  it  nmst  never 
happen  again,  or  he  should  be  accused  of  letting  billets 
pass  in  posies.  The  whole  place  was  pervaded,  in 
fact,  by  an  atmosphere  of  suspicion^  and  the  vigilance, 
which  might  have  been  endurable  for  a  few  months,  was 
wearing  the  spirits  and  temper  of  all  concerned,  now 
that  it  had  already  lasted  for  seven  or  eight  years,  and 
there  seemed  no  end  to  it.  Moreover,  in  sf  ite  of  all 
care,  it  every  now  and  then  became  apparent  that 
Queen  Mary  had  some  communication  with  the  outer 


VI.]  THE  BEWITCHED  WHISTLE.  73 

world  which  no  one  could  trace,  though  the  effects 
endangered  the  life  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  the  peace  of 
the  kingdom,  and  the  existence  of  the  English  Church. 
The  blame  always  fell  upon  Lord  Shrewsbury ;  and 
who  could  wonder  that  he  was  becoming  captiously 
suspicious,  aitd  soured  in  temper,  so  that  even  such 
faithful  kinsmen  as  Eichard  Talbot  could  sometimes 
hardly  bear  with  him,  and  became  punctiliously  anxious 
that  there  should  not  be  the  smallest  loophole  for  cen- 
sure of  the  conduct  of  himself  and  his  family  ? 

The  person  on  whom  Master  Goatley's  visit  had  left 
the  most  impression  seemed  to  be  Humfrey.  On  the 
one  hand,  his  father's  words  had  made  him  enter  into  his 
situation  of  trust  and  loyalty,  and  perceive  something 
of  the  constant  sacrifice  of  self  to  duty  that  it  required, 
and,  on  the  other  hand,  he  had  assumed  a  position 
towards  Cis  of  which  he  in  some  degree  felt  the  force. 
There  was  nothing  in  the  opinions  of  the  time  to 
render  their  semi-betrothal  ridiculous.  At  the  Manor- 
house  itself,  Gilbert  Talbot  and  Mary  Cavendish  had 
been  married  when  no  older  than  he  was ;  half  their 
contemporaries  were  already  plighted,  and  the  only 
difference  was  that  in  the  present  harassing  state  of 
surveillance  in  which  every  one  lived,  the  parents 
thought  that  to  avow  the  secret  so  long  kept  might 
bring  about  inquiry  and  suspicion,  and  they  therefore 
wished  it  to  be  guarded  till  the  marriage  could  be 
contracted.  As  Cis  developed,  she  had  looks  and  tones 
which  so  curiously  harmonised,  now  with  the  Scotch, 
now  with  the  French  element  in  the  royal  captive's 
suite,  and  which  made  Captain  Eichard  believe  that 
she  must  belong  to  some  of  the  families  who  seemed 
am])hibious  between  the  two  courts ;  and  her  identi- 
fication as  a  Seaton,  a  Elemyng,  a  Beatoun,  or  as  a  mem- 


74  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOIIY.  [CHAP. 

ber  of  any  of  the  families  attached  to  the  losing  cause, 
would  only  involve  her  in  exile  and  disgrace.  Besides, 
there  was  every  reason  to  think  her  an  orphan,  and  a 
distant  kinsman  was  scarcely  likely  to  give  her  such  a 
home  as  she  had  at  Bridgefield,  where  she  had  always 
been  looked  on  as  a  daughter,  and  was  now  regarded 
as  doubly  their  own  in  right  of  their  son.  So  Hum- 
frey  was  permitted  to  consider  her  as  peculiarly  liis 
own,  and  he  exerted  this  right  of  property  by  a 
certain  jealousy  of  Antony  Babington  which  amused 
his  parents,  and  teased  the  young  lady.  ISTor  was 
he  wholly  actuated  by  the  jealousy  of  proprietor- 
ship, for  he  knew  the  devotion  with  which  Antony 
regarded  Queen  Mary,  and  did  not  wholly  trust  him. 
His  sense  of  honour  and  duty  to  his  father's  trust  was 
one  thing,  Antony's  knight-errantry  to  the  beautiful 
captive  was  another;  each  boy  thought  himself  strictly 
honourable,  while  they  moved  in  parallel  lines  and 
could  not  understand  one  another ;  yet,  with  the 
reserve  of  childhood,  all  that  passed  between  them 
was  a  secret,  till  one  afternoon  when  loud  angiy 
sounds  and  suppressed  sobs  attracted  Mistress  Susan 
to  the  garden,  where  she  found  Cis  crying  bitterly, 
and  little  Diccon  staring  eagerly,  while  a  pitched 
battle  was  going  on  between  her  eldest  son  and  young 
Antony  Babington,  who  were  pommelling  each  other 
too  furiously  to  perceive  her  approach. 

"  Boys  !  boys  !  fie  for  shame,"  she  cried,  with  a 
hand  on  the  shoulder  of  each,  and  they  stood  apart 
at  her  touch,  though  still  fiercely  looking  at  one 
another. 

"  See  what  spectacles  you  have  made  of  yourselves  !" 
she  continued.  "  Is  this  your  treatment  "of  your  guest, 
Humfrey  ?     How  is  my  Lord's  page  to  show  himself  at 


vl]  the  bewitched  whistle.  75 

Chat'? worth  to-morrow  with  such  an  eye  ?  What  is  it 
all  about?" 

Both  combatants  eyed  each  other  in  sullen  silence. 

"  Tell  me,  Cis.  Tell  me,  Diccon.  I  will  know,  or 
you  shall  have  the  rod  as  well  as  Humfrey." 

Diccon,  who  was  still  in  the  era  of  timidity,  in- 
stead of  secretiveness,  spoke  out,  "  He,"  indicating  his 
brother,  "wanted  the  packet." 

"What  packet?"  exclaimed  the  mother,  alarmed. 

"  The  packet  that  he  (another  nod  towards  Antony) 
wanted  Cis  to  give  that  witch  in  case  she  came  while 
he  is  at  Chats  worth." 

"  It  was  the  dog- whistle,"  said  Cis.  "  It  hath  no 
sound  in  it,  and  Antony  would  have  me  change  it  for 
him,  because  Huckster  Tibbott  may  not  come  within 
the  gates.  I  did  not  want  to  do  so ;  I  fear  Tibbott, 
and  when  Humfrey  found  me  crying  he  fell  on 
Antony.      So  blame  him  not,  mother." 

"  If  Humfrey  is  a  jealous  churl,  and  Cis  a  little 
fool,  there's  no  help  for  it,"  said  Antony,  disdainfully 
turning  his  back  on  his  late  adversary. 

"  Then  let  me  take  charge  of  this  whistle,"  re- 
turned the  lady,  moved  by  the  universal  habit  of 
caution,  but  Antony  sprang  hastily  to  intercept  her 
as  she  was  taking  from  the  little  girl  a  small  paper 
packet  tied  round  with  coloured  yarn,  but  he  was  not 
in  time,  and  conld  only  exclaim,  "  Nay,  nay,  madam,  I 
will  not  trouble  you.      It  is  nothing." 

"Master  Babington,"  said  Susan  firmly,  "you  know 
as  well  as  I  do  that  no  packet  may  pass  out  of  the 
park  unopened.  If  you  wished  to  have  the  whistle 
changed  you  should  have  brought  it  uncovered.  I  am 
Sony  for  the  discourtesy,  and  ask  your  pardon,  but  this 
jDarcel  may  not  pass." 


76  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

"  Then,"  said  Antony,  with  difficulty  repressing 
something  much  more  passionate  and  disrespectful,  "  let 
me  have  it  again." 

"  Nay,  Master  Babington,  that  would  not  suit  with 
my  duty." 

The  boy  altogether  lost  his  temper.  "Duty!  duty!" 
he  cried.  "  I  am  sick  of  the  word.  All  it  means  is  a 
mere  feigned  excuse  for  prying  and  spying,  and  beset- 
ting the  most  beautiful  and  unhappy  princess  in  the 
world  for  her  true  faith  and  true  right  !" 

"Master  Antony  Babington,"  said  Susan  gravely, 
"  you  had  better  take  care  what  you  are  about.  If 
those  words  of  yours  had  been  spoken  in  my  Lord's 
hearing,  they  would  bring  you  worse  than  the  rod  or 
bread  and  water." 

"What  care  I  what  I  suffer  for  such  a  Queen?" 
exclaimed  Antony. 

"  Suffering  is  a  different  matter  from  saying  '  What 
care  I,' "  returned  the  lady,  "  as  I  fear  you  will  learn. 
Master  Antony." 

"  0  mother !  sweet  mother,"  said  Cis,  "  you  will 
not  tell  of  him  !" — but  mother  shook  her  head. 

"  Prithee,  dear  mother,"  added  Humfrey,  seeing  no 
relenting  in  her  countenance,  "  I  did  but  mean  to  hinder 
Cis  from  being  maltreated  and  a  go-between  in  this 
traffic  with  an  old  witch,  not  to  bring  Tony  into  trouble." 

"  His  face  is  a  tell-tale,  Humfrey,"  said  Susan.  "  I 
meant  ere  now  to  have  put  a  piece  of  beef  on  it. 
Come  in,  Antony,  and  let  me  wash  it." 

"  Thank  you,  madam,  I  need  nothing  here,"  said 
Antony,  stalking  proudly  off;  while  Humfrey,  exclaim- 
ing "  Don't  be  an  ass,  Tony  ! — Mother,  no  one  would 
care  to  ask  what  we  had  given  one  another  black  eyes 
for  in  a  friendly  way,"  tried  to  hold  him  back,  and  he 


VI.]  THE  BEWITCHED  WHISTLE.  77 

did  linger  when  Cis  added  her  persuasions  to  him  not 
to  return  the  spectacle  he  was  at  present. 

"  If  this  lady  will  promise  not  to  betray  an  un- 
fortunate Queen,"  he  said,  as  if  permission  to  deal  with 
his  bruises  were  a  great  reward. 

"Oh!  you  foolish  boy!"  exclaimed  Mistress  Talbot, 
"  you  were  never  meant  for  a  plotter !  you  have  your- 
self betrayed  that  you  are  her  messenger." 

"  And  I  am  not  ashamed  of  it,"  said  Antony,  hold- 
ing his  head  high.  "  Madam,  madam,  if  you  have 
surprised  this  from  me,  you  are  the  more  bound  not  to 
betray  her.  Think,  lady,  if  you  were  shut  up  from 
your  children  and  friends,  would  you  not  seek  to  send 
tidings  to  them  ?" 

"  Child,  child  !  Heaven  knows  I  am  not  blaming 
the  poor  lady  within  there.  I  am  only  thinking  what 
is  right." 

'  "  Well,"  said  Antony,  somewhat  hopefully,  "  if  that 
be  all,  give  me  back  the  packet,  or  tear  it  up,  if  you 
will,  and  there  can  be  no  harm  done." 

"  Oh,  do  so,  sweet  mother,"  entreated  Cis,  earnestly ; 
"  he  will  never  bid  me  go  to  Tibbott  again." 

"  Ay,"  said  Humfrey,  "  then  no  tales  will  be  told." 

For  even  he,  with  all  his  trustworthiness,  or  indeed 
because  of  it,  could  not  bear  to  bring  a  comrade  to 
disgrace ;  but  the  dilemma  was  put  an  end  to  by  the 
sudden  appearance  on  the  scene  of  Captain  Eichard 
himself,  demanding  the  cause  of  the  disturbance,  and 
whether  his  sons  had  been  misbehaviug  to  their  guest. 

"  Dear  sir,  sweet  father,  do  not  ask,"  entreated  Cis, 
springing  to  him,  and  taking  his  hand,  as  she  was 
privileged  to  do  ;  "  mother  has  come,  and  it  is  all  made 
■up  and  over  now." 

Eichard    Talbot,    however,    had    seen    the    packet 


78  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

which  his  wife  was  holding,  and  her  anxious,  perplexed 
countenance,  and  the  perilous  atmosphere  of  suspicion 
around  him  made  it  incumbent  on  him  to  turn  to  her 
and  say,  "What  means  this,  mother?  Is  it  as  Cis 
would  have  me  believe,  a  mere  childish  quarrel  that  I 
may  pass  over  ?  or  what  is  this  packet  ?" 

"  Master  Babington  saith  it  is  a  dog-whistle  which 
he  was  leaving  in  charge  with  Cis  to  exchange  for 
another  with  Huckstress  Tibbott,"  she  answered. 

"  Feel, — nay,  open  it,  and  see  if  it  be  not,  sir," 
cried  Antony. 

"  I  doubt  not  that  so  it  is,"  said  the  captain ;  "  but 
you  know,  Master  iBabington,  that  it  is  the  duty  of  all 
here  in  charge  to  let  no  packet  pass  the  gate  which 
has  not  been  viewed  by  my  lord's  officers," 

"  Then,  sir,  I  will  take  it  back  again,"  said  Antony, 
with  a  vain  attempt  at  making  his  brow  frank  and 
clear. 

Instead  of  answering,  Captain  Talbot  took  the 
knife  from  his  girdle,  and  cut  in  twain  the  yarn  that 
bound  the  packet.  There  was  no  doubt  about  the 
whistle  being  there,  nor  was  there  anything  written  on 
the  wrapper ;  but  perhaps  the  anxiety  in  Antony's  eye, 
or  even  the  old  association  with  boatswains,  incited 
Mr.  Talbot  to  put  the  whistle  to  his  lips.  Not  a 
sound  would  come  forth.  He  looked  in,  and  saw  what 
led  him  to  blow  with  all  his  force,  when  a  white  roll 
of  paper  protruded,  and  on  another  blast  fell  out  into 
his  hand. 

He  held  it  up  as  he  found  it,  and  looked  fuU  at 
Antony,  who  exclaimed  in  much  agitation,  "To  keep 
out  the  dust.  Only  to  keep  out  the  dust.  It  is  aU 
gibberish — from  my  old  writing-books." 

"That  will  we    see,"  said   Eichard   very  gravely. 


vl]  the  bewitched  whistle.  79 

"Mis/ress,  be  pleased  to  give  this  young  gentleman 
some  water  to  wash  his  face,  and  attend  to  his  bruises, 
keeping  him  in  the  guest-chamber  without  speech 
from  any  one  until  I  return.  Master  Babin^ton,  I 
counsel  you  to  submit  quietly.  I  wish,  and  my  Lord 
will  wish,  to  spare  his  ward  as  much  scandal  as  pos- 
sible, and  if  this  be  what  you  say  it  is,  mere  gibberish 
from  your  exercise-books,  you  will  be  quit  for  chastise- 
ment for  a  forbidden  act,  which  has  brought  you  into 
suspicion.     If  not,  it  must  be  as  my  Lord  thinks  good." 

Antony  made  no  entreaties.  Perhaps  he  trusted 
that  what  was  unintelligible  to  himself  might  j)ass  for 
gibberish  with  others ;  perhaps  the  headache  caused 
by  Humfrey's  fists  was  assisting  to  produce  a  state  of 
sullen  indifference  after  his  burst  of  eager  chivalry;  at 
any  rate  he  let  Mistress  Talbot  lead  him  away  without 
resistance.  The  other  children  would  have  followed, 
but  their  father  detained  them  to  hear  the  particulars 
of  the  commission  and  the  capture.  Eichard  desired 
to  know  from  his  son  whether  he  had  any  reason  for 
suspecting  underhand  measures ;  and  when  Humfrey 
looked  down  and  hesitated,  added,  "  On  your  obedience, 
boy;  this  is  no  slight  matter." 

"  You  will  not  beat  Cis,  father  ? "  said  Humfrey. 

"  Wherefore  should  I  beat  her,  save  for  doing 
errands  that  yonder  lad  should  have  known  better 
than  to  thrust  on  her  ?" 

"  Nay,  sir,  'tis  not  for  that ;  but  my  mother  said 
she  should  be  beaten  if  ever  she  spake  of  the  fortune 
yonder  Tibbott  told  her,  and  we  are  sure  that  she — 
Tibbott  I  mean — is  a  witch,  and  knows  more  than  she 
ought." 

"  Wliat  mean'st  thou  ?  Tell  me,  children  ; "  and 
Cls,  nothing    loath,  since    she  was    securtjd  from   the 


80  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

beating,  related  the  augury  which  had  left  so  deep 
an  impression  on  her,  Humfrey  bearing  witness  that  it 
was  before  they  Icnew  themselves  of  Cicely's  history. 

"  But  that  is  not  all,"  added  Cicely,  seeing  Mr. 
Talbot  less  impressed  than  she  expected  by  these 
supernatural  powers  of  divination.  "  She  can  change 
from  a  woman  to  a  man  !" 

"  In  sooth  !"  exclaimed  Eichard,  startled  enough  by 
this  information. 

"  Yea,  father,"  said  Cicely,  "  Faithful  Ekins,  the 
carrier's  boy,  saw  her,  in  doublet  and  hose,  and  a 
tawny  cloak,  going  along  the  road  to  Chesterfield.  He 
knew  her  by  the  halt  in  her  left  leg." 

"  Ha !"  said  Eichard,  "  and  how  long  hast  thou 
known  this  ?" 

"  Only  yestermorn,"  said  Cis  ;  "  it  was  that  which 
made  me  so  much  afraid  to  have  any  dealings  with 
her." 

"  She  shall  trouble  thee  no  more,  my  little  wench," 
said  Eichard  in  a  tone  that  made  Humfrey  cry  out 
joyously, 

"  0  father !  sweet  father !  "wilt  thou  duck  her  for  a 
witch  ?      Sink  or  swim  !  that  will  be  rare  ! " 

"Hush,  hush!  foolish  lad,"  said  Eichard,  "and  thou. 
Cicely,  take  good  heed  that  not  a  word  of  all  this  gets 
abroad.  Go  to  thy  mother,  child, — nay,  I  am  not 
wroth  with  thee,  little  one.  Thou  hast  not  done  amiss, 
but  bear  in  mind  that  nought  is  ever  taken  out  of  the 
park  without  knowledge  of  me  or  of  thy  mother." 


vil]  the  blast  of  the  whistle.  81 


CHAPTER  VIL 

THE  BLAST  OF  THE  WHISTLE. 

Eichard  Talbot  was  of  course  convinced  that  witch- 
craft was  not  likely  to  be  the  most  serious  part  of  the 
misdeeds  of  Tibbott  the  huckstress.  Committing 
Antony  Babington  to  the  custody  of  his  wife,  he  sped 
on  his  way  back  to  the  Manor-house,  where  Lord 
Shrewsbury  was  at  present  residing,  the  Countess 
being  gone  to  view  her  buildings  at  Chatsworth,  tak- 
ins;  her  daughter  Bessie  with  her.  He  sent  in  a 
message  desiring  to  speak  to  my  lord  in  his  privy 
chamber. 

Francis  Talbot  came  to  him.  "  Is  it  matter  of  great 
moment,  Dick  ?"  he  said,  "for  my  father  is  so  fretted 
and  chafed,  I  would  fain  not  vex  him  further  to-night. 
— What !  know  you  not  ?  Here  a^'e  tidings  that  my 
lady  hath  married  Bess — yes,  Bess  Cavendish,  in 
secret  to  my  young  Lord  Lennox,  the  brother  of  this 
Queen's  unlucky  husband  !  How  he  is  to  clear  himself 
before  her  Grace  of  being  concerned  in  it,  I  know  not, 
for  though  Heaven  wots  that  he  is  as  innocent  as  the 
child  unborn,  she  will  suspect  him  !" 

"  I  knew  she  flew  high  for  Mistress  Bess,"  returned 
"Richard. 

"  High  !  nothing  would  serve  her  save  royal  blood  ! 

G 


82  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [UIIAP. 

My  poor  father  says  as  sure  as  the  lions  and  Jlcur- 
de-lis  have  come  into  a  family,  the  headsman's  axe  has 
come  after  them." 

"However  it  is  not  our  family." 

"  So  I  tell  him,  hut  it  gives  him  small  comfort,"  said 
Frank,  "  looking  as  he  doth  on  the  Cavendish  brood  as 
his  own,  and  knowing  that  there  will  be  a  mighty  coil 
at  once- with  my  lady  and  these  two  queens.  He  is 
sore  vexed  to-night,  and  saith  that  never  was  Earl,  not 
to  say  man,  so  baited  by  woman  as  he,  and  he  bade 
me  see  whether  yours  be  a  matter  of  such  moment 
that  it  may  not  wait  till  morning  or  be  despatched  by 
me." 

"  That  is  for  you  to  say.  Master  Francis.  What 
think  you  of  this  for  a  toy?"  as  he  produced  the  parcel 
with  the  whistle  and  its  contents.  "  I  went  home 
betimes  to-day,  as  you  know,  and  found  my  boy 
Humfrey  had  just  made  young  Master  Babington 
taste  of  his  fists  for  trying  to  make  our  little  wench 
pass  this  packet  to  yonder  huckster- woman  who  was 
succoured  some  months  back  by  the  Queen  of  Scots." 

Francis  Talbot  silently  took  the  whistle  and  un- 
rolled the  long  narrow  strip  of  paper.  "  This  is  the 
cipher,"  said  he,  "the  cipher  used  in  corresponding 
with  her  French  kin ;  Phillipps  the  decipherer  showed 
me  the  trick  of  it  when  he  was  at  Tutbury  in  the  time 
of  the  Duke  of  Norfolk's  business.  Soh  !  your  son 
hath  done  good  service,  Kichard.  That  lad  hath  been 
tampered  with  then,  I  thought  he  was  over  thick  with 
the  lady  in  the  lodge.  Where  is  he,  the  young 
traitor  ?" 

"  At  Bridgefield,  under  my  wife's  ward,  having  his 
bruises  attended  to.  I  would  not  bring  him  up  here  till 
I  knew  what  my  Lord  would  have  done  with  him.     He 


VII.]  THE  BLAST  OF  THE  WHISTLE.  83 

is  but  a  child,  and  no  doubt  was  wrought  with  by 
sweet  looks,  and  I  trust  my  Lord  will  not  be  hard 
with  him." 

"  If  my  father  had  hearkened  to  me,  he  should  never 
have  been  here,"  said  Francis.  "  His  father  was  an 
honest  man,  but  his  mother  was,  I  find,  a  secret 
recusant,  and  when  she  died,  young  Antony  was 
quite  old  enough  to  have  sucked  in  the  poison.  You 
did  well  to  keep  him,  Eichard ;  he  ought  not  to  return 
hither  again,  either  in  ward  or  at  liberty." 

"  If  he  were  mine,  I  would  send  him  to  school,"  said 
Eichard,  "  where  the  masters  and  the  lads  would  soon 
drive  out  of  him  all  dreams  about  captive  princesses 
and  seminary  priests  to  boot.  For,  Cousin  Francis,  I 
would  have  you  to  know  that  my  children  say  there  is 
a  rumour  that  this  woman  Tibbott  the  huckstress  hath 
been  seen  in  a  doublet  and  hose  near  Chesterfield." 

"  The  villain  !    When  is  she  looked  for  here  again  ?" 

"  Anon,  I  should  suppose,  judging  by  the  boy  leav- 
ing this  charge  with  Cis  in  case  she  should  come  while 
he  is  gone  to  Chatsworth." 

"  We  will  take  order  as  to  that,"  said  Francis,  com- 
pressing his  lips ;  "  I  know  you  will  take  heed,  cousin, 
that  she,  or  he,  gets  no  breath  of  warning.  I  should 
not  wonder  if  it  were  Parsons  himself ! "  and  he  un- 
folded the  scroll  with  the  air  of  a  man  seeking  to 
confirm  his  triumph. 

"  Can  you  make  anything  of  it  ?"  asked  Eichard, 
struck  by  its  resemblance  to  another  scroll  laid  up 
among  his  wife's  treasures. 

"  I  cannot  tell,  they  are  not  matters  to  be  read  in 
an  hour,"  said  Francis  Talbot,  "  moreover,  there  is  one 
in  use  for  the  English  traitors,  hei  friends,  and  another 
for  the  French.     This  looks  like  the  French  sort.     Let 


84  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAr 

me  see,  they  are  read  by  taking  the  third  letter  in  each 
second  word,"  Francis  Talbot,  somewhat  proud  of  hia 
proficiency,  and  perfectly  certain  of  the  trustworthiness 
of  his  cousin  Eichard,  went  on  puzzling  out  the  ciphered 
letters,  making  Eichard  set  each  letter  down  as  he 
picked  it  out,  and  trying  whether  they  would  make 
sense  in  French  or  English.  Both  understood  French, 
having  learned  it  in  their  page  days,  and  kept  it  up  by 
intercourse  with  the  French  suite.  Francis,  however, 
liad  to  try  two  or  three  methods,  which,  being  a  young 
man,  perhaps  he  was  pleased  to  display,  and  at  last 
he  hit  upon  the  right,  which  interpreted  the  apparent 
gibberish  of  the  scroll — excepting  that  the  names  of 
persons  were  concealed  under  soubriquets  which 
Francis  Talbot  could  not  always  understand — but 
the  following  sentence  by  and  by  became  clear  : — 
"  Quand  le  matelot  vient  dcs  marais,  un  feu  pent 
eclater  dans  la  meiite  et  dans  la  meUe  " — "  When  the 
sailor  lands  from  tlie  fens,  a  fire  might  easily  break 
out  in  the  dog-kennel,  and  in  the  confusion" 
(name  could  not  be  read)  "  could  carry  off  the  tercel 
gentle." 

"La  meutc"  said  Francis,  "that  is  their  term  for 
the  home  of  us  Talbots,  and  the  sailor  in  the  fens  is 
this  Don  John  of  Austria,  who  means,  after  conquering 
the  Dutchmen,  to  come  and  set  free  this  tercel  gentle, 
as  she  calls  herself,  and  play  the  inquisitor  upon  us. 
On  my  honour,  Dick,  your  boy  has  played  the  man  in 
making  this  discovery.  Keep  the  young  traitor  fast, 
and  take  down  a  couple  of  yeomen  to  lay  hands  on 
this  same  Tibbott  as  she  calls  herself." 

"  If  I  remember  right,"  said  Eichard,  "  she  was 
said  to  be  the  sister  or  aunt  to  one  of  the  grooms  or 
prickers." 


VII.]  THE  BLAST  OF  THE  WHISTLE.  85 

"  So  u  Avas,  Guy  Norman,  metliinks.  Belike  he 
was  the  very  fellow  to  set  fire  to  our  kennel.  Yea, 
we  must  secure  him.  I'll  see  to  that,  and  you  shall 
lay  this  scroll  before  my  father  meantime,  Dick.  Why, 
to  fall  on  such  a  trail  will  restore  his  spirits,  and  win 
back  her  Grace  to  believe  in  his  honesty,  if  my  lady's 
tricks  should  liave  made  her  doubtful." 

Off  went  Francis  with  great  alacrity,  and  ere  long 
the  Earl  was  present  with  Eichard.  The  long  light 
beard  was  now  tinged  with  gray,  and  there  were  deep 
lines  round  tlie  mouth  and  temples,  betraying  how  the 
long  anxiety  was  telling  on  him,  and  rendering  him 
suspicious  and  querulous.  "  Soh  !  Eichard  Talbot," 
was  his  salutation,  "  what's  the  coil  now  ?  Can  a  man 
never  be  left  in  peace  in  his  own  house,  between 
queens  and  ladies,  plots  and  follies,  but  his  own  kins 
folk  and  retainers  must  come  to  him  on  every  petty 
broil  among  the  lads  !  I  should  have  thought  your 
boy  and  young  Babiugton  might  fight  out  their  quarrels 
alone  without  vexing  a  man  that  is  near  driven  dis- 
tracted as  it  is." 

"  I  grieve  to  vex  your  lordship,"  said  Eichard, 
standing  bareheaded, "  but  Master  Francis  thought  this 
scroll  worthy  of  your  attention.  This  is  the  manner 
in  which  he  deciphered  it." 

"  Scrolls,  I  am  sick  of  scrolls,"  said  the  Earl  testily. 
"  What !  is  it  some  order  for  saying  mass, — or  to  get 
some  new  Popish  image  or  a  skein  of  silk  ?  I  wear 
my  eyes  out  reading  such  as  that,  and  racking  my 
brains  for  some  hidden  meaning  !" 

And  falling  on  Francis's  first  attempt  at  copying, 
he  was  scornful  of  the  whole,  and  had  nearly  thrown 
the  matter  aside,  but  when  he  lit  at  last  on  the  sen- 
tence about  burning  the   meute  and  carrying  off  the 


86  UNKNOWN  TO  IIISTOIIY.  [CIIAP. 

tercel  gentle,  his  biow  grew  dark  indeed,  and  his 
inquiries  came  thickly  one  upon  the  other,  both  as  to 
Antony  Babuigton  and  the  huckstering  woman. 

In  the  midst,  Frank  Talbot  returned  with  the 
tidings  that  the  pricker  Guy  Norman  was  nowhere 
to  be  found.  He  had  last  been  seen  by  his  comrades 
about  the  time  that  Captain  Eichard  had  returned  to 
the  Manor-house.  Probably  he  had  taken  alarm  on 
seeing  hun  come  back  at  that  unusual  hour,  and  had 
gone  to  carry  the  warning  to  his  supposed  aunt.  This 
last  intelligence  made  the  Earl  decide  on  going  down  at 
once  to  Bridgefield  to  examine  young  Babington  before 
there  was  time  to  miss  his  presence  at  the  lodge,  or 
to  hold  any  communication  with  him.  Frank  caused 
horses  to  be  brought  round,  and  the  Earl  rode  down  with 
Richard  by  a  shaded  alley  in  an  ordinary  cloak  and  hat. 

My  Lord's  appearance  at  Bridgelield  was  a  rarer 
and  more  awful  event  than  was  my  Lady's,  and  if 
Mistress  Susan  had  been  warned  beforehand,  there  is 
no  saying  how  at  the  head  of  her  men  and  maids  she 
would  have  scrubbed  and  polished  the  floors,  and 
brushed  the  hangings  and  cushions.  What  then  were 
her  feelings  when  the  rider,  who  dismounted  from  his 
little  hackney  as  unpretendingly  as  did  her  husband 
in  the  twilight  court,  proved  to  have  my  Lord's  long 
beard  and  narrow  face  ! 

Curtseying  her  lowest,  and  with  a  feeling  of  con- 
sternation and  pity  as  she  thought  of  the  orphan  boy, 
she  accepted  his  greeting  with  duteous  welcome  as  he 
said,  "  Kinswoman,  I  am  come  to  cumber  you,  whilst 
I  inquire  into  this  matter.  I  give  your  son  thanks 
for  the  honesty  and  faithfulness  he  hath  shown  in  the 
mattor,  as  befitted  his  father's  son.  I  should  wish 
myseK  to  examine  the  springald." 


VII.]  THE  BLAST  OF  THE  WHISTLE.  87 

Humfrey  was  accordingly  called,  and,  privately 
admonished  by  his  father  that  he  must  not  allow  any 
scruples  about  bringing  his  playmate  into  trouble  to 
lead  him  to  withhold  his  evidence,  or  shrink  from 
telling  the  whole  truth  as  he  knew  it,  Humfrey 
accordingly  stood  before  the  Earl  and  made  his  replies 
a  little  sullenly  but  quite  straightforwardly.  He  had 
prevented  the  whistle  from  being  given  to  his  sister 
for  the  huckstress  because  the  woman  was  a  witch, 
who  frightened  her,  and  moreover  he  knew  it  was 
against  rules.  Did  he  suspect  that  the  whistle  came 
from  the  Queen  of  Scots  ? 

He  looked  startled,  and  asked  if  it  were  so  indeed, 
and  when  again  commanded  to  say  why  he  had 
thought  it  possible,  he  replied  that  he  knew  Antony 
thought  the  Queen  of  Scots  a  fair  and  gracious  lady. 

Did  he  believe  that  Antony  ever  had  communica- 
tion with  her  or  her  people  unheard  by  others  ? 

"  Assuredly  !  Wherefore  not,  when  he  carried  my 
Lady  Countess's  messages  ?" 

Lord  Shrewsbury  bent  his  brow,  but  did  not  further 
pursue  this  branch  of  the  subject,  but  demanded  of 
Humfrey  a  description  of  Tibbott,  huckster  or  witch, 
man  or  woman. 

"  She  wears  a  big  black  hood  and  muffler,"  said 
Humfrey,  "  and  hath  a  long  hooked  stick." 

"  I  asked  thee  not  of  her  muffler,  boy,  but  of  her 
person." 

"  She  hath  pouncet  boxes  and  hawks'  bells,  and 
dog-whistles  in  her  basket,"  proceeded  Humfrey,  but 
as  the  Earl  waxed  impatient,  and  demanded  whether 
no  one  could  give  him  a  clearer  account,  liichard  bade 
Humfrey  call  his  mother. 

She,  however,  could  say  nothing  as  to  the  woman's 


88  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

appearance.  She  had  gone  to  Norman's  cottage  to  offer 
her  services  after  the  supposed  accident,  but  had  been 
told  that  the  potticary  of  the  Queen  of  Scots  had 
undertaken  her  cure,  and  had  only  seen  her  huddled 
up  in  a  heap  of  rags,  asleep.  Since  her  recovery  the 
woman  had  been  several  times  at  Bridgefield,  but  it 
had  struck  the  mistress  of  the  house  that  there  was 
a  certain  avoidance  of  direct  communication  with  her, 
and  a  preference  for  the  servants  and  children.  This 
Susan  had  ascribed  to  fear  that  she  should  be  warned 
off  for  her  fortune -telling  propensities,  or  the  children's 
little  bargains  interfered  with.  All  she  could  answer 
for  was  that  she  had  once  seen  a  huge  pair  of  grizzled 
eyebrows,  with  light  eyes  under  them,  and  that  the 
woman,  if  woman  she  were,  was  tall,  and  bent  a  good 
deal  upon  a  hooked  stick,  which  supported  her  limping 
steps.  Cicely  could  say  little  more,  except  that  the 
witch  had  a  deep  awesome  voice,  like  a  man,  and  a 
long  nose  terrible  to  look  at.  Indeed,  there  seemed  to 
have  been  a  sort  of  awful  fascination  about  her  to  all 
the  children,  who  feared  her  yet  ran  after  her. 

Antony  was  then  sent  for.  It  was  not  easy  to 
judge  of  the  expression  of  his  disfigured  countenance, 
but  when  thus  brought  to  bay  he  threw  off  all  tokens 
of  compunction,  and  stood  boldly  before  the  Earl, 

"So,  Master  Babington,  I  find  you  have  been  be- 
traying the  trust  I  placed  in  you " 

"  What  trust,  my  Lord  ?"  said  Antony,  his  bright 
blue  eyes  looking  back  into  those  of  the  nobleman. 

"  The  cockerel  crows  loud,"  said  the  Earl.  "  What 
trust,  quotha !  Is  there  no  trust  implied  in  the  com- 
ing and  going  of  one  of  my  household,  when  such  a 
charge  is  committed  to  me  and  mine  ?" 

"  No  one  ever  gave  me  any  charge,"  said  Antony. 


VII.]  THE  BLAST  OF  THE  WHISTLE.  89 

"Dost  thou  bandy  words,  thou  froward  imp  ?"  said 
the  Earl,  "  Thou  hast  not  the  conscience  to  deny  that 
there  was  no  honesty  in  smuggling  forth  a  letter  thus 
hidden.  Deny  it  not.  The  treasonable  cipher  hath 
been  read !" 

"  I  knew  nought  of  what  was  in  it,"  said  the  boy. 

"  I  believe  thee  there,  but  thou  didst  know  that  it 
was  foully  disloyal  to  me  and  to  her  Majesty  to  bear 
forth  secret  letters  to  disguised  traitors.  I  am  willing 
to  believe  that  the  smooth  tongue  which  hath  deluded 
many  a  better  man  than  thou  hath  led  thee  astray, 
and  I  am  willing  to  deal  as  lightly  with  thee  as  may 
be,  so  thou  wilt  tell  me  openly  all  thou  knowest  of 
this  infamous  plot." 

"  I  know  of  no  plot,  sir." 

"  They  would  scarce  commit  the  knowledge  to  the 
like  of  him,"  said  Eichard  Talbot. 

"  May  be  not,"  said  Lord  Shrewsbury,  looking  at 
him  with  a  glance  that  Antony  thought  contemptuous, 
and  which  prompted  him  to  exclaim,  "  And  if  I  did 
know  of  one,  you  may  be  assured  I  would  never  betray 
it  were  I  torn  with  wild  horses." 

"  Betray,  sayest  thou  !"  returned  the  Earl.  "  Thou 
hast  betrayed  my  confidence,  Antony,  and  hast  gone  as 
far  as  in  thee  lies  to  betray  thy  Queen." 

"My  Queen  is  Mary,  the  lawful  Queen  of  us  all," 
replied  Antony,  boldly. 

"  Ho  !  Sayest  thou  so  ?  It  is  then  as  thou  didst 
trow,  cousin,  the  foolish  lad  hath  been  tampered  with 
by  the  honeyed  tongue.  I  need  not  ask  thee  from  whom 
thou  hadst  this  letter,  boy.  We  have  read  it  and 
know  the  foul  treason  therein.  Thou  wilt  never  return 
to  the  castle  again,  but  for  thy  father's  sake  thou  shalt 
be  dealt  with  less  sternly,  if  thou  wilt  tell  who  this 


^0  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

■woman  is,  and  how  many  of  tliese  toys  thou  hast  given 
to  her,  if  thou  knowest  who  she  is." 

But  Antony  closed  his  lips  resolutely.  In  fact, 
Eichard  suspected  him  of  being  somewhat  flattered  by 
being  the  cause  of  such  a  commotion,  ond  actually 
accused  of  so  grand  and  manly  a  crime  as  high  treason. 
The  Earl  could  extract  no  word,  and  finally  sentenced 
him  to  remain  at  Bridgefield,  shut  up  in  his  own 
chamber  till  he  could  be  dealt  with.  The  lad  walked 
away  in  a  dignified  manner,  and  the  Earl,  holding  up 
his  hands,  half  amused,  half  vexed,  said,  "  So  the  spell 
is  on  that  poor  lad  likewise.  What  shall  I  do  with 
him  ?     An  orphan  boy  too,  and  mine  old  friend's  son." 

"  With  your  favour,  my  Lord,"  said  Eichard,  "  I 
should  say,  send  him  to  a  grammar  school,  where 
among  lads  of  his  own  age,  the  dreams  about  captive 
princesses  might  be  driven  from  him  by  hard  blows 
and  merry  games." 

"That  may  scarce  serve,"  said  the  Earl  rather  severely, 
for  public  schools  were  then  held  beneath  the  dignity  of 
both  the  nobility  and  higher  gentry.  "  I  may,  however, 
send  him  to  study  at  Cambridge  under  some  trusty 
pedagogue.  Back  at  the  castle  I  cannot  have  him,  so 
must  I  cumber  you  with  him,  my  good  kinswoman, 
until  his  face  have  recovered  your  son's  lusty  chastise- 
ment. Also  it  may  be  well  to  keep  him  here  till  we 
can  lay  hands  on  this  same  huckster- woman,  since 
there  may  be  need  to  confront  him  with  her.  It  were 
best  if  you  did  scour  the  country  toward  Chesterfield 
for  her,  while  Frank  went  to  York." 

Having  thus  issued  his  orders,  the  Earl  took  a 
gracious  leave  of  the  lady,  mounted  his  horse,  and 
rode  back  to  Sheffield,  dispensing  with  the  attendance 
of  his  kiusman,  who  had  indeed  to  prepare  for  an  early 


vil]  the  blast  of  the  whistle.  91 

start  the  next  morning,  when  he  meant  to  take 
Humfrey  with  him,  as  not  unlikely  to  recognise  the 
woman,  though  he  could  not  describe  her. 

"  The  boy  merits  well  to  go  forth  with  me,"  said 
he.  "He  hath  done  yeoman's  service,  and  proved 
himself  staunch  and  faithful." 

"Was  there  matter  in  that  scroll  ?"  asked  Susan. 

"  Only  such  slight  matter  as  burning  down  the 
Talbots'  kennel,  while  Don  John  of  Austria  is  landing 
on  the  coast." 

"  God  forgive  them,  and  defend  us  !"  sighed  Susan, 
turning  pale.     "Was  that  in  the  cipher  ?" 

"Ay,  in  sooth,  but  fear  not,  good  wife.  Much  is 
purposed  that  ne'er  comes  to  pass.  I  doubt  me  if  the 
ship  be  built  that  is  to  carry  the  Don  hither." 

"  I  trust  that  Antony  knew  not  of  the  wickedness  ?" 

"  Not  he.  His  is  only  a  dream  out  of  the  romances 
the  lads  love  so  well,  of  beauteous  princesses  to  be 
freed,  and  the  like." 

"  But  the  woman  !" 

"  Yea,  that  lies  deeper.  What  didst  thou  say  of 
her  ?  Wherefore  do  the  children  call  her  a  witch  ?  Is 
it  only  that  she  is  gxim  and  ugly?" 

"  I  trow  there  is  more  cause  than  that,"  said  Susan. 
"  It  may  be  that  I  should  have  taken  more  heed  to 
their  babble  at  first ;  but  I  have  questioned  Cis  while 
you  were  at  the  lodge,  and  I  find  that  even  before 
Mate  Goatley  spake  here,  this  Tibbott  had  told  the 
child  of  her  being  of  lofty  race  in  the  north,  alien  to 
the  Talbots'  kennel,  holding  out  to  her  presages  of 
some  princely  destiny." 

"That  bodeth  ill!"  said  Eichaid,  thoughtfully. 
"  Wife,  my  soul  misgives  me  that  the  hand  of 
Cuthbert  Langston  is  in  this." 


92  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY,  [CHAP. 

Susan  started.  The  idea  chimed  in  with  Tibbott'a 
avoidance  of  her  scrutiny,  and  also  with  a  certain 
vague  sense  she  had  had  of  having  seen  those  eyes 
before.  So  light-complexioned  a  man  would  be  easily 
disguised,  and  the  halt  was  accounted  for  by  a  report 
that  he  had  had  a  bad  fall  when  riding  to  join  in  the 
Eising  in  the  North.  Nor  could  there  now  be  any 
doubt  that  he  was  an  ardent  partisan  of  the  imprisoned 
Mary,  while  Eichard  had  always  known  his  inclination 
to  intrigue.  She  could  only  agree  with  her  husband's 
opinion,  and  ask  what  he  would  do. 

"  My  duty  must  be  done,  kin  or  no  kin,"  said 
Eichard,  "  that  is  if  I  find  him ;  but  I  look  not  to  do 
that,  since  Norman  is  no  doubt  off  to  warn  him." 

"  I  marvel  whether  he  hath  really  learnt  who  our 
Cis  can  be  ?" 

"  Belike  not !  The  hint  would  only  have  been 
thrown  out  to  gain  power  over  her." 

"  Said  you  that  you  read  the  cipher  ?" 

"  Master  Frank  did  so." 

"  Would  it  serve  you  to  read  our  scroll  ?" 

"  Ah,  woman  !  woman !  Why  can  thy  kind  never 
let  well  alone  ?  I  have  sufficient  on  my  hands  without 
reading  of  scrolls  !" 

Humfrey's  delight  was  extreme  when  he  found  that 
he  was  to  ride  forth  with  his  father,  and  half-a-dozen 
of  the  earl's  yeomen,  in  search  of  the  supposed  witch. 
They  traced  her  as  far  as  Chesterfield ;  but  having  met 
the  carrier's  waggon  on  the  way,  they  carefully 
examined  Faithful  Ekins  on  his  report,  but  all  the 
youth  was  clear  about  was  tlie  halt  and  the  orange 
tawny  cloak,  and  after  entering  Chesterfield,  no  one 
knew  anything  of  these  tokens.  There  was  a  large 
village  belonging  to  a  family  of  recusants,  not  far  off, 


VII.]  THE  BLAST  OF  THE  WHISTLE.  93 

where  the  pursuers  generally  did  lose  sight  of  suspicious 
persons ;  and,  perhaps,  Eichard  was  relieved,  though 
his  son  was  greatly  chagrined. 

The  good  captain  had  a  sufficient  regard  for  his 
kinsman  to  be  unwilling  to  have  to  unmask  him  as  a 
traitor,  and  to  be  glad  that  he  should  have  effected  an 
escape,  so  that,  at  least,  it  should  be  others  who  should 
detect  him — if  Langston  indeed  it  were. 

His  next  charge  was  to  escort  young  Babington  to 
Cambridge,  and  deliver  him  up  to  a  tutor  of  his  lord- 
ship's selection,  who  might  draw  the  Popish  fancies  out 
of  him. 

Meantime,  Antony  had  been  kept  close  to  the 
house  and  garden,  and  not  allowed  any  intercourse 
with  any  of  the  young  people,  save  Hunifrey,  except 
when  the  master  or  mistress  of  the  house  was  present ; 
but  he  did  not  want  for  occupation,  for  Master  Snig- 
gius  came  down,  and  gave  him  a  long  chapter  of  the 
Book  of  Proverbs — chiefly  upon  loyalty,  in  the  Septua- 
gint,  to  learn  by  heart,  and  translate  into  Latin  and 
English  as  his  Saturday's  and  Sunday's  occupation, 
under  pain  of  a  flogging,  which  was  no  light  thiug  from 
the  hands  of  that  redoubted  dominie. 

Young  Babington  was  half  -  flattered  and  half- 
frightened  at  the  commotion  he  had  excited.  "  Am  I 
going  to  the  Tower?"  he  asked,  in  a  low  voice,  awe- 
stricken,  yet  not  without  a  certain  ring  of  self-import- 
ance, when  he  saw  his  mails  brought  down,  and  was 
bidden  to  put  on  his  boots  and  his  travelling  dress. 

And  Captain  Talbot  had  a  cruel  satisfaction  in 
replying,  "  No,  Master  Babington  ;  the  Tower  is  not 
for  refractory  boys.  You  are  going  to  your  school- 
master." 

But  where  the  school  was  to  be  Ei^Jiard  kept  an 


94  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP 

absolute  secret  by  special  desire,  in  oider  that  no  com- 
munication should  be  kept  up  through  any  of  the 
household.  He  was  to  avoid  Chats  worth,  and  to  return 
as  soon  as  possible  to  endeavour  to  trace  the  supposed 
huckster-woman  at  Chesterfield. 

When  once  away  from  home,  he  ceased  to  treat 
young  Babington  as  a  criminal,  but  rode  in  a  friendly 
manner  with  him  through  lanes  and  over  moors,  till 
the  young  fellow  began  to  thaw  towards  him,  and  even 
went  so  far  as  to  volunteer  one  day  tliat  he  would  not 
have  brought  Mistress  Cicely  into  the  matter  if  there 
had  been  any  other  sure  way  of  getting  the  letter 
delivered  in  his  absence. 

"Ah,  boy!"  returned  Richard,  "when  once  we 
swerve  from  the  open  and  direct  paths,  there  is  no  saying 
into  what  tangles  we  may  bring  ourselves  and  others." 

Antony  winced  a  little,  and  said,  "  Whoever  says  I 
lied,  lies  in  his  throat." 

"No  one  hath  said  thou  wert  false  in  word,  but 
how  as  to  thy  deed  ? " 

"  Sir,"  said  Antony,  "  surely  when  a  high  emprise 
and  great  right  is  to  be  done,  there  is  no  need  to  halt 
over  such  petty  quibbles." 

"  Master  P3abington,  no  great  right  was  ever  done 
through  a  little  wrong.  Depend  on  it,  if  you  cannot 
aid  without  a  breach  of  trust,  it  is  the  sure  sign  that 
it  is  not  the  will  of  God  that  you  should  be  the  one  to 
do  it." 

Captain  Talbot  mused  whether  he  should  convince 
or  only  weary  the  lad  by  an  argument  he  had  once 
heard  in  a  sermon,  that  the  force  of  Satan's  temptation 
to  our  blessed  Lord,  when  showiug  Him  all  the  king- 
doms of  the  world,  must  have  been  the  absolute  and 
immediate  vanishing  of  all  kinds  of  evil,  by  a  voluntary 


VII.]  THE  BLAST  OF  THE  WHISTLE.  95 

abdication  on  the  part  of  the  Prince  of  this  world,  in- 
stead not  only  of  the  coming  anguish  of  the  strife,  but 
of  the  long,  long,  often  losiug,  battle  which  has  been 
waging  ever  since.  Yet  for  this  great  achievement  He 
would  not  commit  the  moment's  sin.  He  was  just  about 
to  begin  when  Antony  broke  in,  "  Then,  sir,  you  do 
deem  it  a  great  wrong?" 

"  That  I  leave  to  wiser  heads  tlian  mine,"  returned 
the  sailor.  "  My  duty  is  to  obey  my  Lord,  his  duty  is 
to  obey  her  Grace.  That  is  all  a  plain  man  needs  to 
see. 

"  But  an  if  the  true  Queen  be  thus  mewed  up,  sir  ?" 
asked  Antony.  Eichard  was  too  wise  a  man  to  threaten 
the  suggestion  down  as  rank  treason,  well  knowing  that 
thus  he  should  never  root  it  out. 

"  Look  you  here,  Antony,"  he  said ;  "  who  ought 
to  reign  is  a  question  of  birth,  such  as  neither  of  us 
can  understand  nor  judge.  But  we  know  thus  much, 
that  her  Grace,  Queen  Elizabeth,  hath  been  crowned  and 
anointed  and  received  oaths  of  fealty  as  her  due,  and 
that  is  quite  enough  for  any  honest  man." 

"Even  when  she  keeps  in  durance  the  Queen,  who 
came  as  her  guest  in  dire  distress  ?" 

"  Nay,  Master  Antony,  you  are  not  old  enough  to 
remember  that  the  durance  began  not  until  the  Queen 
of  Scots  tried  to  form  a  party  for  herself  among  the 
English  liegemen.  And  didst  thou  know,  thou  simple 
lad,  what  the  letter  bore,  which  thou  didst  carry,  and 
what  it  would  bring  on  this  peaceful  land  ?" 

Antony  looked  a  little  startled  when  he  heard  of 
the  burning  of  the  kennel,  but  he  averred  that  Don 
John  was  a  gallant  prince. 

"  I  have  seen  more  than  one  gallant  Spaniard  under 
whose  power  I  should  grieve  to  see  any  friend  of  mine." 


96  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

All  the  rest  of  the  way  Pdchard  Talbot  entertained 
the  young  gentleman  with  stories  of  his  own  voyages 
and  adventures,  into  wliich  he  managed  to  bring  traits 
of  Spanish  cruelty  and  barbarity  as  shown  in  the  Low 
Countries,  such  as,  without  actually  drawing  the 
moral  every  time,  might  show  what  was  to  be  ex- 
pected if  Mary  of  Scotland  and  Don  John  of  Austria 
were  to  reign  over  England,  armed  with  the  Inquisition. 

Antony  asked  a  good  many  questions,  and  when  he 
found  that  the  captain  had  actually  been  an  eye-witness 
of  the  state  of  a  country  harried  by  the  Spaniards,  he 
seemed  a  good  deal  struck. 

"  I  think  if  I  had  the  training  of  him  I  could  make 
a  loyal  Englishman  of  him  yet,"  said  Eichard  Talbot 
to  his  wife  on  his  return.  "  But  I  fear  me  there  is 
that  in  his  heart  and  his  conscience  which  will  only 
grow,  while  yonder  sour-faced  doctor,  with  whom  I  had 
to  leave  him  at  Cambridge,  preaches  to  him  of  the 
perdition  of  Pope  and  Papists." 

"  If  his  mother  were  indeed  a  concealed  Papist," 
said  Susan,  "  such  sermons  will  only  revolt  the  poor 
child." 

"  Yea,  truly.  If  my  Lord  wanted  to  make  a  plotter 
and  a  Papist  of  the  boy  he  could  scarce  find  a  better 
means.  I  myself  never  could  away  with  yonder  lady's 
blandishments.  But  when  he  thinks  of  her  in  con- 
trast to  yonder  divine,  it  would  take  a  stronger  head 
than  his  not  to  be  led  away.  The  best  chance  for 
him  is  that  the  stir  of  the  world  about  him  may  put 
captive  princesses  out  of  his  head." 


viil]  the  key  of  the  cipher.  97 


CHAPTEE   Yin. 

THE   KEY   OF   THE   CIPHEE. 

Where  is  the  man  who  does  not  persuade  himself  that 
when  he  gratifies  his  own  curiosity  he  does  so  for  the 
sake  of  his  womankind  ?  So  Richard  Talbot,  having 
made  his  protest,  waited  two  days,  but  when  next  he 
had  any  leisure  moments  before  him,  on  a  Sunday 
evening,  he  said  to  his  wife,  "  Sue,  what  hast  thou  done 
with  that  scroll  of  Cissy's  ?  I  trow  thou  wilt  not  rest 
till  thou  art  convinced  it  is  but  some  lying  horoscope 
or  Popish  charm."  * 

Susan  had  in  truth  been  resting  in  perfect  quiet- 
ness, being  extremely  busy  over  her  spinning,  so  as  to 
be  ready  for  the  weaver  who  came  round  periodically 
to  direct  the  more  artistic  portions  of  domestic  work. 
However,  she  joyfully  produced  the  scroll  from  the 
depths  of  the  casket  where  she  kept  her  chief  treasures, 
and  her  spindle  often  paused  in  its  dance  as  she  watched 
her  husband  over  it,  with  his  elbows  on  the  table  and 
his  hands  in  his  hair,  from  whence  he  only  removed 
them  now  and  then  to  set  down  a  letter  or  two  by  way 
of  experiment.  She  had  to  be  patient,  for  she  heard 
nothing  that  night  but  that  he  believed  it  was  French, 
that  the  father  of  deceits  himself  might  be  puzzled 
with  the  thing,  and  tliat  she  might  as  well  ask  him 

H 


98  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

for  his  head  at  once  as  propose  his  consulting  Master 
Francis. 

The  next  night  he  unfolded  it  with  many  a  groan, 
and  would  say  nothing  at  all ;  but  he  sat  up  late  and 
waked  in  early  dawn  to  pore  over  it  again,  and  on  the 
third  day  of  study  he  uttered  a  loud  exclamation  of 
dismay,  but  he  ordered  Susan  off  to  bed  in  the  midst, 
and  did  not  utter  anything  but  a  perplexed  groan  or 
two  when  he  followed  her  much  later. 

It  was  not  till  the  next  night  that  she  heard  any- 
thmg,  and  then,  in  the  darkness,  he  began,  "  Susan, 
thou  art  a  good  wife  and  a  discreet  woman." 

Perhaps  her  heart  leapt  as  she  thought  to  herself, 
"  At  last  it  is  coming,  I  knew  it  would !"  but  she  only 
made  some  innocent  note  of  attention. 

"  Thou  hast  asked  no  questions,  nor  tried  to  pry 
into  this  unhappy  mystery,"  he  went  on. 

"  I  knew  you  would  tell  me  what  was  fit  for  me  to 
hear,"  she  replied. 

"  Fit !  It  is  fit  for  no  one  to  hear !  Yet  I  needs 
must  take  counsel  with  thee,  and  thou  hast  shown  thou 
canst  keep  a  close  mouth  so  far." 

"  Concerns  it  our  Cissy,  husband  ?" 

"  Ay  does  it.  Our  Cissy,  indeed  !  Wliat  wouldst 
say.  Sue,  to  hear  she  was  daughter  to  the  lady 
yonder." 

"  To  the  Queen  of  Scots  ?" 

"  Hush  !  hush  !"  fairly  grasping  her  to  hinder  the 
words  from  being  uttered  above  her  breath. 

"And  her  father?" 

"  That  villain.  Both  well,  of  course.  Poor  lassie, 
she  is  ill  fathered  !  " 

"  You  may  say  so.      Is  it  in  the  ssroU  ? " 

"Ay!  so  far  as  I  can  unravel  it;  but  besides  the 


VIII.]  THE  KEY  OF  THE  CIPHER.  99 

cipher  no  doubt  much  was  left  for  the  poor  woman  to 
tell  that  was  lost  in  the  wreck." 

And  he  went  on  to  explain  that  the  scroll  was  a 
letter  to  the  Abbess  of  Soissons,  who  was  aunt  to 
Queen  Mary,  as  was  well  known,  since  an  open  corre- 
spondence was  kept  up  through  the  French  ambassador. 
This  letter  said  that  "  our  trusty  Alison  Hepburn  " 
would  tell  how  in  secrecy  and  distress  Queen  Maiy 
had  given  birth  to  this  poor  child  in  Lochleven,  and 
how  she  had  been  conveyed  across  the  lake  while  only 
a  few  hours  old,  after  being  hastily  baptized  by  the 
name  of  Bride,  one  of  the  patron  saints  of  Scotland.  She 
had  been  nursed  in  a  cottage  for  a  few  weeks  till  the 
Queen  had  made  her  first  vain  attempt  to  escape,  after 
which  Mary  had  decided  on  sending  her  with  her  nurse 
to  Dumbarton  Castle,  whence  Lord  Flemyng  would 
despatch  her  to  France.  The  Abbess  was  implored  to 
shelter  her,  in  complete  ignorance  of  her  birth,  until 
such  time  as  her  mother  should  resume  her  liberty  and 
her  throne.  "  Or  if,"  the  poor  Queen  said,  "  I  perish  in 
the  hands  of  my  enemies,  you  will  deal  with  her  as  my 
uncles  of  Guise  and  Lorraine  think  fit,  since,  should  her 
unhappy  little  brother  die  in  the  rude  hands  of  yonder 
traitors,  she  may  bring  the  true  faith  back  to  both 
realms." 

"Ah  !"  cried  Susan,  with  a  sudden  gasp  of  dismay,  as 
she  bethought  her  that  the  child  was  indeed  heiress  to 
both  realms  after  the  young  King  of  Scots.  "  But  has 
there  been  no  quest  after  her?    Do  they  deem  her  lost?" 

"  No  doubt  they  do.  Either  all  hands  were  lost  in 
the  Bride  of  Dunhar,  or  if  any  of  the  crew  escaped, 
they  would  report  the  loss  of  nurse  and  child.  The 
few  who  know  that  the  little  one  was  lorn  believe  her 
to  have  perished.     None  will  ever  ask  for  her.     They 


100  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOKY.  [CHAP 

deem  that  she  lias  been  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea  these 
twelve  years  or  more." 

"  And  you  would  still  keep  the  knowledge  to  our- 
selves ?"  asked  his  wife,  in  a  tone  of  relief. 

"  I  would  I  knew  it  not  myself  ! "  sighed  Eichard. 
"  Would  that  I  could  blot  it  out  of  my  mind." 

"  It  were  far  happier  for  the  poor  maid  herself  to 
remain  no  one's  child  but  ours,"  said  Susan. 

"  In  sooth  it  is  !  A  drop  of  royal  blood  is  in  these 
days  a  mere  drop  of  poison  to  them  that  have  the  ill 
luck  to  inherit  it.  As  my  lord  said  the  other  day,  it 
brings  the  headsman's  axe  after  it." 

"  And  our  boy  Humfrey  calls  himself  contracted 
to  her  ! " 

"  So  long  as  we  let  the  secret  die  with  us  that  can 
do  her  no  ill.  Happily  the  wench  favours  not  her 
mother,  save  sometimes  in  a  certain  lordly  carriage  of 
the  head  and  shoulders.  She  is  like  enough  to  some 
of  the  Scots  retinue  to  make  me  think  she  must  take 
her  face  from  her  father,  the  villain,  who,  some  one 
told  me,  was  beetle-browed  and  swarthy." 

"Lives  he  still?" 

"  So  'tis  thought,  but  somewhere  in  prison  in  the 
north.  There  have  been  no  tidings  of  his  death ;  but 
my  Lady  Queen,  you'll  remember,  treats  the  marriage  as 
nought,  and  has  made  offer  of  herself  for  the  misfortune 
of  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,  ay,  and  of  this  Don  John, 
and  I  know  not  whom  besides." 

"  She  would  not  have  done  that  had  she  known 
that  our  Cis  was  alive." 

"  Mayhap  she  would,  mayhap  not.  I  believe  my- 
self she  would  do  anything  short  of  disowning  hei 
Popery  to  get  out  of  prison  ;  but  as  matters  stand  I 
doubt  me  whether  Cis " 


VIII.]  THE  KEY  OF  THE  CIPHER.  101 

"  The  Lady  Bride  Hepburn,"  suggested  Susan. 

"  Pshaw,  poor  child,  I  misdoubt  me  whetlier  they 
would  own  her  claim  even  to  that  name." 

"  And  they  might  put  her  in  prison  if  they  did," 
said  Susan. 

'They  would  be  sure  to  do  so,  sooner  or  later. 
Here  has  my  lord  been  recounting  in  his  trouble  about 
my  lady's  fine  match  for  her  Bess,  all  that  hath  come 
of  mating  with  royal  blood,  the  very  least  disaster 
being  poor  Lady  Mary  Grey's  1  Kept  in  ward  for 
life  !  It  is  a  cruel  matter.  I  would  that  I  had 
known  the  cipher  at  first.  Then  she  might  either  have 
been  disposed  of  at  the  Queen's  will,  or  have  been  sent 
safe  to  this  nunnery  at  Soissons." 

"  To  be  bred  a  Papist !     Oh  fie,  husband  ! " 

"  And  to  breed  dissension  in  the  kingdoms  ! "  added 
her  husband.  "  It  is  best  so  far  for  the  poor  maiden 
herself  to  have  thy  tender  hand  over  her  than  that  of 
any  queen  or  abbess  of  them  all." 

"  Shall  we  then  keep  all  things  as  they  are,  and 
lock  this  knowledge  in  our  own  hearts  ?"  asked  Susan 
hopefully. 

"  To  that  am  I  mightily  inclined,"  said  Pichard. 
"  Were  it  blazed  abroad  at  once,  thou  and  I  might  be 
made  out  guilty  of  I  know  not  what  for  concealing  it ; 
and  as  to  the  maiden,  she  would  either  be  put  in  close 
ward  with  her  mother,  or,  what  would  be  more  likely, 
had  up  to  court  to  be  watched,  and  flouted,  and  spied 
upon,  as  were  the  two  poor  ladies — sisters  to  the  Lady 
Jane — ere  they  made  their  lot  hopeless  by  marrying. 
Nay,  I  have  seen  those  who  told  me  that  poor  Lady 
Katherine  was  scarce  worse  bested  in  the  Tower  than 
she  was  while  at  court." 

"  My  poor  Cis  !    No,  no  !     The  only  cause  for  which 


102  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CH.*r. 

I  could  bear  to  yield  her  up  would  be  the  thought  that 
she  would  bring  comfort  to  the  heart  of  the  poor 
captive  mother  who  hath  the  best  right  to  her." 

"  Forsooth !  I  suspect  her  poor  captive  mother 
would  scarce  be  pleased  to  find  this  witness  to  her  ill- 
advised  marriage  in  existence." 

"  Nor  would  she  be  permitted  to  be  with  her." 

"  Assuredly  not.  Moreover,  what  could  she  do  with 
the  poor  child  ? " 

"  Eear  her  in  Popery,"  exclaimed  Susan,  to  whom 
the  word  was  terrible. 

"  Yea,  and  make  her  hand  secure  as  the  bait  to 
some  foreign  prince  or  some  English  traitor,  who  would 
fain  overthrow  Queen  and  Church." 

Susan  shuddered.  "  Oh  yes  !  let  us  keep  the  poor 
child  to  ourselves.  I  could  not  give  her  up  to  such 
a  lot  as  that.  And  it  might  imperil  you  too,  my  hus- 
band. I  should  like  to  get  up  instantly  and  burn  the 
scroll." 

"I  doubt  me  whether  that  were  expedient,"  said 
Eichard.  "  Suppose  it  were  in  the  course  of  providence 
that  the  young  King  of  Scots  should  not  live,  then  would 
this  maid  be  the  means  of  uniting  the  two  kingdoms 
in  the  true  and  Eeformed  faith  !  Heaven  forefend  that 
he  should  be  cut  off,  but  meseemeth  that  we  have  no 
right  to  destroy  the  evidence  that  may  one  day  be  a 
precious  thing  to  the  kingdom  at  large." 

"No  chance  eye  could  read  it  even  were  it  dis- 
covered ?"  said  Susan. 

"  No,  mdeed.  Thou  knowest  how  I  strove  in  vain 
to  read  it  at  first,  and  even  now,  when  Frank  Talbot 
unwittingly  gave  me  the  key,  it  was  days  before  I  could 
fully  read  it.  It  will  tell  no  tales,  sweet  wife,  that 
can  prejudice  any  one,  so  we  will  l(»t  it  be,  even  with 


vhl]  the  key  of  the  cipher.  103 

the  baby  clouts.  So  now  to  sleep,  with  no  more 
thouglits  on  the  matter." 

That  was  easy  to  say,  but  Susan  lay  awake  long, 
pondering  over  the  wonder,  and  only  slept  to  dream 
strange  dreams  of  queens  and  princesses,  ay,  and 
worse,  for  she  finally  awoke  with  a  scream,  thinking 
her  husband  was  on  the  scaffold,  and  that  Humfrey 
and  Cis  were  walking  up  the  ladder,  hand  in  hand 
with  their  necks  bared,  to  follow  him  ! 

There  was  no  need  to  bid  her  hold  her  tongue. 
She  regarded  the  secret  with  dread  and  horror,  and  a 
sense  of  something  amiss  which  she  could  not  quite 
define,  though  she  told  herself  she  was  only  acting 
in  obedience  to  her  husband,  and  indeed  her  judgment 
went  along  with  his. 

Often  she  looked  at  the  unconscious  Cis,  studying 
whether  the  child's  parentage  could  be  detected  in  her 
features.  But  she  gave  promise  of  being  of  larger 
frame  than  her  mother,  who  had  the  fine  limbs  and 
contour  of  her  Lorraine  ancestry,  whereas  Cis  did, 
as  Eichard  said,  seem  to  have  the  sturdy  outlines  of 
the  Borderer  race  from  whom  her  father  came.  She 
was  round-faced  too,  and  sunburnt,  with  deep  gray 
eyes  under  black  straight  brows,  capable  of  frowning 
heavily.  She  did  not  look  likely  ever  to  be  the 
fascinating  beauty  which  all  declared  her  mother  to 
be — though  those  who  saw  the  captive  at  Sheffield, 
believed  the  charm  to  be  more  in  indefinable  grace 
than  in  actual  features,  —  in  a  certain  wonderful 
smile  and  sparkle,  a  mixed  pathos  and  archness  which 
seldom  failed  of  its  momentary  effect,  even  upon 
thos*  who  most  rebelled  against  it.  Poor  little  Cis,  a 
sturdy  girl  of  twelve  or  thirteen,  playing  at  ball  with 
little  Ned  on  the  terrace,  and  coming  with  tardy  steps 


104  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP 

to  her  daily  task  of  spinning,  had  little  of  the  princess 
about  her ;  and  yet  when  she  sat  down,  and  the  manage- 
ment of  distaff  and  thread  threw  her  shoulders  back, 
there  was  something  in  the  poise  of  her  small  head  and 
the  gesture  of  her  hand  that  forcibly  recalled  the  Queen. 
Moreover,  all  the  boys  around  were  at  her  beck  and 
call,  not  only  Humfrey  and  poor  Antony  Babington, 
but  Cavendishes,  Pierrepoints,  all  the  young  pages  and 
grandsons  who  dwelt  at  castle  or  lodge,  and  attended 
Master  Sniggius's  schooL  Nay,  the  dominie  himself, 
though  owning  that  Mistress  Cicely  promoted  idleness 
and  inattention  among  his  pupils,  had  actually 
volunteered  to  come  down  to  Bridgefield  twice  a  week 
himself  to  prevent  her  from  forgetting  her  Lilly's  gram- 
mar and  her  Caesar's  Commentaries,  an  attention  with 
which  this  young  lady  would  willingly  have  dispensed. 
Stewart,  Lorraine,  Hepburn,  the  blood  of  all  com- 
bined was  a  perilous  inheritance,  and  good  Susan 
Talbot's  instinct  was  that  the  young  girl  whom  she 
loved  truly  like  her  own  daughter  would  need  all  the 
more  careful  and  tender  watchfulness  and  training  to 
overcome  any  tendencies  that  might  descend  to  her. 
Pity  increased  her  affection,  and  even  while  in  ordinary 
household  life  it  was  easy  to  forget  who  and  what  the 
girl  really  was,  yet  Cis  was  conscious  that  she  was 
admitted  to  the  intimacy  and  privileges  of  an  elder 
daughter,  and  made  a  companion  and  friend,  while  her 
contemporaries  at  the  Manor-house  were  treated  as 
children,  and  rated  roundly,  their  fingers  tapped  with 
fans,  their  shoulders  even  whipped,  whenever  they 
transgressed.  Cis  did  indeed  live  raider  equal  re- 
straint, but  it  was  the  wise  and  gertle  restraint  of 
firm  influence  and  constant  watchfulness,  which  took 
from  her  the  wish  to  resist. 


IX,]  UNQUIET.  105 


CHAPTEE  IX, 

UNQUIET. 

Bridgefield  was  a  peaceable  household,  and  the  castle 
and  manor  beyond  might  envy  its  calm. 

From  the  time  of  the  marriage  of  Elizabeth  Caven- 
dish with  the  young  Earl  of  Lennox  all  the  shreds 
of  comfort  which  had  remained  to  the  unfortunate 
Earl  had  vanished.  First  he  had  to  clear  himself 
before  Queen  Elizabeth  from  having  been  a  consent- 
ing party,  and  then  he  found  his  wife  furious  with 
him  at  his  displeasure  at  her  daughter's  aggrandise- 
ment. Moreover,  whereas  she  had  formerly  been 
on  terms  of  friendly  gossiphood  with  the  Scottish 
Queen,  she  now  went  over  to  the  Lennox  side  because 
her  favourite  daughter  had  married  among  them ;  and 
it  was  evident  that  from  that  moment  all  amity 
between  her  and  the  prisoner  was  at  an  end. 

She  was  enraged  that  her  husband  would  not  at  once 
change  his  whole  treatment  of  the  Queen,  and  treat  her 
as  such  guilt  deserved  ;  and  with  the  illogical  dulness 
of  a  passionate  woman,  she  utterly  scouted  and  failed  to 
comprehend  the  argument  that  the  unhappy  Mary  was, 
to  say  the  least  of  it,  no  more  guilty  now  than  when 
she  came  into  their  keeping,  and  that  to  altei  their  de- 
meanour towards  her  would  be  unjust  and  unreasonabla 


106  UNKNOWN  TO  HISIORY.  [CHAP. 

"  My  Lady  is  altogether  beyond  reason,"  said  Captain 
Talbot,  returning  one  evening  to  his  wife ;  "  neither 
my  Lord  nor  her  daughter  can  do  ought  with  her ;  so 
puffed  up  is  she  with  this  marriage  !  Moreover,  she  is 
hotly  angered  that  young  Babingtoa  should  have  l^een 
sent  away  from  her  retinue  withouv,  notice  to  her,  and 
demands  our  Humfrey  in  his  stead  as  a  page." 

"  He  is  surely  too  old  for  a  page !"  said  his  mother, 
thinking  of  her  tall  well-grown  son  of  fifteen. 

"  So  said  I,"  returned  Richard.  "  I  had  sooner  it 
were  Diccon,  and  so  I  told  his  lordship." 

Before  Richard  could  speak  for  them,  the  two  boys 
came  in,  eager  and  breathless.  "  Father  !"  cried  Hum- 
frey, "  who  think  you  is  at  Hull  ?  Wliy,  none  other 
than  your  old  friend  and  shipmate.  Captain  Frobisher  !" 

"  Ha  !  Martm  Frobisher  !  Who  told  thee,  Hum- 
frey ?" 

"  Faithful  Ekins,  sir,  who  had  it  from  the  Doncaster 
carrier,  who  saw  Captain  Frobisher  liimself,  and  was 
asked  by  him  if  you,  sir,  were  not  somewhere  in 
Yorkshire,  and  if  so,  to  let  you  know  that  he  will  be 
in  Hull  till  May-day,  getting  men  together  for  a  voy- 
age to  the  northwards,  where  there  is  gold  to  be  had 
for  the  picking — and  if  you  had  a  likely  son  or  two, 
now  was  the  time  to  make  their  fortunes,  and  show 
them  the  world.  He  said,  auy  way  you  might  ride  to 
see  an  old  comrade." 

"  A  long  message  for  two  carriers,"  said  Richard  Tal- 
bot, smiling,  "but  Martin  never  was  a  scribe !" 

"  But,  sir,  you  will  let  me  go,"  cried  Humfrey, 
eagerly.  "  I  mean,  I  pray  you  to  let  me  go.  Dear 
mother,  say  nought  against  it,"  entreated  the  youth. 
"  Cis,  think  of  my  brmging  thee  home  a  gold  bracelet 
like  mother's." 


IX.]  UNQUIET.  107 

"What,"  said  his  father,  "when  my  lady  has  just 
craved  thee  for  a  page." 

"  A  page  !  said  Humfrey,  with  infinite  contempt — 
"  to  hear  all  theii  tales  and  bickerings,  hold  skeins  of 
silk,  amble  mincingly  along  galleries,  be  begged  to  bear 
messages  that  may  have  more  in  them  than  one  knows., 
and  be  noted  for  a  bear  if  one  refuses." 

The  father  and  Cis  laughed,  the  mother  looked 
unhappy. 

"  So  Martin  is  at  Hull,  is  he  ?"  said  Richard,  mus- 
ingly. "  If  my  Lord  can  give  me  leave  for  a  week  or 
fortnight,  methinks  I  must  ride  to  see  the  stout  old 
knave." 

"  And  oh,  sweet  father !  prithee  take  me  with  you," 
entreated  Humfrey,  "  if  it  be  only  to  come  back  again. 
I  have  not  seen  the  sea  since  we  came  here,  and  yet 
the  sound  is  in  my  ears  as  I  fall  asleep.  I  entreat 
of  you  to  let  me  come,  good  my  father." 

"  And,  good  father,  let  me  come,"  exclaimed  Diccon ; 
"  I  have  never  even  seen  the  sea  !" 

"  And  dear,  sweet  fatlier,  take  me,"  entreated  little 
Ned. 

"  Nay,"  cried  Cis,  "  what  should  I  do  ?  Here  is 
Antony  Babington  borne  off  to  Cambridge,  and  you  all 
wanting  to  leave  me." 

"I'll  come  home  better  worth  than  he!"  muttered 
Humfrey,  who  tliouglit  he  saw  consent  on  his  father's 
brow,  and  drew  her  aside  into  the  deep  window. 

"  You'll  come  back  a  rude  sailor,  smelling  of  pitch 
and  tar,  and  Antony  will  be  a  well-bred,  point-device 
scholar,  who  will  know  how  to  give  a  lady  his  hand," 
said  the  teasing  girl. 

And  so  the  playful  war  was  carried  on,  while  the 
father,  having  silenced  and  dismissed  the  two  younger 


108  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAF 

lads,  expressed  his  intention  of  obtaining  leave  of 
absence,  if  possible,  from  the  Earl." 

"  Yea,"  he  added  to  his  wife,  "  I  shall  even  let 
Humfrey  go  v^ith  me.  It  is  time  he  looked  beyond 
the  walls  of  this  place,  which  is  little  better  than  a 
prison." 

"  And  will  you  let  him  go  on  this  strange  voyage  ?" 
she  asked  wistfully,  "  he,  our  first-born,  and  our  heir." 

"  For  that,  dame,  remember  his  namesake,  my 
poor  brother,  was  the  one  who  stayed  at  home,  I  the  one 
to  go  forth,  and  here  am  I  now  !"  The  lad's  words 
may  have  set  before  thee  weightier  perils  in  yonder 
park  than  he  is  like  to  meet  among  seals  and  bears 
under  honest  old  Martin." 

"  Yet  here  he  has  your  guidance,"  said  Susan. 

"  Who  knows  how  they  might  play  on  his  honour 
as  to  talebearing  ?  Nay,  good  wife,  when  thou  hast 
thought  it  over,  thou  wilt  see  that  far  fouler  shoals 
and  straits  lie  up  yonder,  than  in  the  free  open  sea  that 
God  Almighty  made.  Martin  is  a  devout  and  godly 
man,  who  hath  matins  and  evensong  on  board  each 
day  when  the  weather  is  not  too  foul,  and  looks  well 
that  there  be  no  ill-doings  in  his  ship ;  and  if  he  have 
a  berth  for  thy  lad,  it  will  be  a  better  school  for  him 
than  where  two-thirds  of  the  household  are  raging 
against  one  another,  and  the  third  ever  striving  to 
corrupt  and  outwit  the  rest.  I  am  weary  of  it  all ! 
Would  that  I  could  once  get  into  blue  water  again, 
and  leave  it  all  behind  ! " 

"  You  will  not !  Oh  !  you  will  not !"  implored 
Susan.  "  Remember,  my  dear,  good  lord,  how  you  said 
all  your  duties  lay  at  home." 

"  I  remember,  my  good  housewife.  Thou  needst 
not  fear  for  me.      But  there  is  little  time  to  spare.     If 


IX.]  UNQUIET.  109 

I  am  to  see  mine  old  friend,  I  must  get  speecli  of  my 
Lord  to-night,  so  as  to  be  on  horsebaclv  to-morrow. 
Saddle  me  Brown  Dumpling,  boys." 

And  as  the  boys  went  off",  persuading  Cis,  who  went 
coyly  protesting  that  the  paddock  was  damp,  yet  still 
following  after  them,  he  added,  "  Yea,  Sue,  considering 
all,  it  is  better  those  two  were  apart  for  a  year  or  so, 
till  we  see  better  what  is  this  strange  nestling  that  we 
have  reared.  Ay,  thou  art  like  the  mother  sparrow 
that  hath  bred  up  a  cuckoo  and  doteth  on  it,  yet  it 
mateth  not  with  her  brood." 

"  It  casteth  them  out,"  said  Susan,  "  as  thou  art 
doing  now,  by  your  leave,  husband." 

"  Only  for  a  flight,  gentle  mother,"  he  answered, 
"  only  for  a  flight,  to  prove  meanwhile  wliether  there 
be  the  making  of  a  simple  household  bird,  or  of  a 
]iawk  tliat  might  tear  her  mate  to  pieces,  in  yonder 
nestling." 

Susan  was  too  dutiful  a  wife  to  say  more,  though 
her  motherly  heart  was  wrung  almost  as  much  at  the 
implied  distrust  of  her  adopted  daughter  as  by  the 
sudden  parting  with  her  first-born  to  the  dangers  of 
the  northern  seas.  She  could  better  enter  into  her 
husband's  fears  of  the  temptations  of  page  life  at  Shef- 
field, and  being  altogether  a  wife,  "  bonner  and  bough- 
some,"  as  her  marriage  vow  held  it,  she  applied  herself 
and  Cis  to  the  choosing  of  the  shirts  and  the  crimping 
of  the  ruifs  that  were  to  appear  in  Hull,  if,  for  there 
was  this  hope  at  the  bottom  of  her  heart,  my  Lord  might 
refuse  leave  of  absence  to  his  "  gentleman  porter." 

The  hope  was  fallacious  ;  Pdchard  reported  that  my 
Lord  was  so  much  relieved  to  find  that  he  had  detected 
no  fresh  conspiracy,  as  to  be  willing  to  grant  hiui  a 
fortnight's  leave,  and  even  had  said  with  a  sigh   that 


110  UK  KNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP 

he  was  in  the  right  on't  fihout  his  son,  for  Sheffield 
was  more  of  a  school  for  plotting  than  for  chivalry. 

It  was  a  point  of  honour  with  every  good  house- 
wife to  have  a  store  of  linen  eqiial  to  any  emergency, 
and,  indeed,  as  there  were  no  washing  days  in  the 
winter,  the  stock  of  personal  body -linen  was  at  all 
times  nearly  a  sufficient  outfit ;  so  the  main  of  Hum- 
frey's  shirts  were  to  he  despatched  by  a  carrier,  in  the 
trust  that  they  would  reach  him  before  the  expedition 
should  sail. 

There  was  then  little  to  delay  the  father  and  son, 
after  the  mother,  with  fast -gathering  tears  resolutely 
forced  back,  had  packed  and  strapped  their  mails,  with 
Cis's  help,  Humfrey  standiug  by,  booted  and  spurred, 
and  talking  fast  of  the  wonders  he  should  see,  and  the 
gold  and  ivory  he  should  bring  home,  to  hide  the 
qualms  of  home-sickness,  and  mother-sickness,  he  was 
already  beginning  to  feel ;  and  maybe  to  get  Cis  to 
pronounce  that  then  she  should  think  more  of  him  than 
of  Antony  Babington  with  his  airs  and  graces.  Wist- 
fully did  the  lad  watch  for  some  such  tender  assurance, 
but  Cis  seemed  all  provoking  brilliancy  and  teasing. 
"  She  knew  he  would  be  back  over  soon.  Oh  no,  he 
would  never  go  to  sea  !  She  feared  not.  Mr.  Frobisher 
would  have  none  of  such  awkward  lubbers.  More's 
the  pity.  There  would  be  some  peace  to  get  to  do  her 
broidery,  and  leave  to  play  on  the  virginals  when  he 
was  gone." 

But  when  the  horsemen  had  disappeared  down  the 
avenue,  Cis  hid  herself  in  a  corner  and  cried  as  if  her 
heart  would  break. 

She  cried  again  behind  the  back  of  the  tall  settle 
when  the  father  came  back  alone,  full  of  praises  of 
Captain  "Frobisher,  his  ship,  and  his  corapany,  and  his 


IX.]  UNQUIET.  Ill 

assurances  that  he  would  watch  over  Humfrey  like  his 
own  son. 

Meantime  the  domestic  storms  at  the  park  were 
such  that  Master  Eichard  and  his  wife  were  not  sorry 
that  the  boy  was  not  growing  up  in  tlie  midst  of  them, 
though  the  Countess  rated  Susan  severely  for  her 
ingratitude. 

Queen  Elizabeth  was  of  course  much  angered  at  the 
Lennox  match,  and  the  Earl  had  to  write  letter  after 
letter  to  clear  himself  from  any  participation  in  bringing 
it  about.  Queen  Mary  also  wrote  to  clear  herself  of  it, 
and  to  show  that  she  absolutely  regretted  it,  as  she  had 
small  esteem  for  Bess  Cavendish.  Moreover,  though 
Lady  Shrewsbury's  friendship  might  not  be  a  very 
pleasant  thing,  it  was  at  least  better  than  her  hostility. 
However,  she  was  not  much  at  Sheffield.  Not  only 
was  she  very  angry  with  her  husband,  but  Queen 
Elizabeth  had  strictly  forbidden  the  young  Lord  Lennox 
from  coming  under  the  same  roof  with  his  royal  sister- 
in-law.  He  was  a  weakly  youth,  and  his  wife's  health 
failed  immediately  after  her  marriage,  so  that  Lady 
Shrewsbury  remained  almost  constantly  at  Chatsworth 
with  her  darling. 

Gilbert  Talbot,  who  was  the  chief  peacemaker  of  the 
family,  went  to  and  fro,  wrote  letters  and  did  his  best, 
which  would  have  been  more  effective  but  for  Mary,  his 
wife,  who,  no  doubt,  detailed  all  the  gossip  of  Sheffield  at 
Chatsworth,  as  she  certainly  amused  Sheffield  with 
stories  of  her  sister  Bess  as  a  royal  countess  full  of 
airs  and  humours,  and  her  mother  treating  her,  if  not 
as  a  queen,  at  least  on  the  high  road  to  become  one, 
and  how  the  haughty  dame  of  Shrewsbury  ran  will- 
ingly to  pick  up  her  daughter's  kercliief,  and  stood 
over  the  fire  stirring  the  posset,  rather  than  let  it  fail 


112  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOKY.  [CIIAP. 

to  tempt  the  appetite  which  became  more  dainty  by 
bein,i(  cossetted. 

The  difference  made  between  Lady  Lennox  and  her 
elder  sisters  was  not  a  little  nettling  to  Dame  Mary 
Talbot,  who  held  that  some  consideration  was  her  due, 
as  the  proud  mother  of  the  only  grandson  of  the  house 
of  Shrewsbury,  little  George,  who  was  just  able  to  be 
put  on  horseback  in  the  court,  and  say  he  was  riding 
to  see  "  Lady  Danmode,"  and  to  drink  the  health  of 
"  Lady  Danmode  "  at  his  meals. 

Alas  !  the  little  hope  of  the  Talbots  suddenly  faded. 
One  evening  after  supper  a  message  came  down  in 
haste  to  beg  for  the  aid  of  Mistress  Susan,  who,  though 
much  left  to  the  seclusion  of  Bridgefield  in  prosperous 
days,  was  always  a  resource  in  trouble  or  difficulty. 
Little  George,  then  two  and  a  half  years  old,  had  been 
taken  suddenly  ill  after  a  supper  on  marchpane  and 
plum  broth,  washed  down  by  Christmas  ale.  Convul- 
sions had  come  on,  and  the  skill  of  Queen  Mary's 
apothecary  had  only  gone  so  far  as  to  bleed  him. 
Susan  arrived  only  just  in  time  to  see  the  child  breathe 
his  last  sigh,  and  to  have  his  mother,  wild  with 
tumultuous  clamorous  grief,  put  into  her  hands  for 
such  soothing  and  comforting  as  might  be  possible,  and 
the  good  and  tender  woman  did  her  best  to  turn  the 
mother's  thoughts  to  something  higher  and  better  than 
the  bcwading  at  one  moment  "  her  pretty  boy,"  with  a 
sort  of  animal  sense  of  bereavement,  and  the  next 
with  lamentations  over  the  honours  to  which  he  would 
have  succeeded.  It  was  of  little  use  to  speak  to  her 
of  the  eternal  glories  of  which  he  was  now  secure,  for 
Mary  Talbot's  sorrow  was  chiefly  selfish,  and  was  con- 
nected with  the  loss  of  her  prc-eniinen(,e  as  parent  to 
the  heir-male. 


IX.]  UNQUIET.  113 

However,  the  grief  of  those  times  was  apt  to  expend 
itself  quickly,  and  when  little  George's  coffin,  smothered 
under  heraldic  devices  and  funeral  escutcheons,  had 
been  bestowed  in  the  family  vault,  Dame  Mary  soon 
revived  enough  to  take  a  warm  interest  in  the  lords 
s^ho  were  next  afterwards  sent  down  to  hold  confeKsnces 
with  the  captive ;  and  her  criticism  of  the  fashion  of  their 
ruffs  and  doublets  was  as  animated  as  ever.  Another 
grief,  however,  soon  fell  upon  the  family.  Lady  Len- 
nox's ailments  proved  to  be  no  such  trifles  as  her  sisters 
and  sisters-in-law  had  been  pleased  to  suppose,  and 
before  the  year  was  out,  she  had  passed  away  from  all 
her  ambitious  hopes,  leaving  a  little  daughter.  The 
Earl  took  a  brief  leave  of  absence  to  visit  his  lady  in 
her  affliction  at  Chatsworth,  and  to  stand  godfather  to 
the  motherless  infant. 

"  She  will  soon  be  fatherless,  too,"  said  Eichard 
Talbot  on  his  return  to  Bridgefield,  after  attending  his 
lord  on  this  expedition.  "My  young  Lord  Lennox, 
poor  youth,  is  far  gone  in  the  wasting  sickness,  as  well 
as  distraught  with  grief,  and  he  could  scarcely  stand  to 
receive  my  Lord." 

"  Our  poor  lady  !"  said  Susan,  "  it  pities  me  to  think 
what  hopes  she  had  fixed  upon  that  young  couple  whom 
she  had  mated  together." 

"  I  doubt  me  whether  her  hopes  be  ended  now," 
quoth  Eichard.  "  What  think  you  she  hath  fixed  on 
as  the  name  of  the  poor  puling  babe  yonder  ?  They 
have  called  her  Arbel  or  Arabella." 

"  Arabella,  say  you  ?  I  never  heard  such  a  name. 
It  is  scarce  Christian.      Is  it  out  of  a  romaunt  ?" 

"  Better  that  it  were.  It  is  out  of  a  pedigree.  They 
have  got  the  whole  genealogy  of  the  house  of  Lennox 
blazoned  fair,  with  crowns  and  coronets  and  coats  of 

I 


114  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

arms  hung  up  in  the  hall  at  Chatsworth  going  up  on 
the  one  hand  through  Sir  ^neas  of  Troy,  and  on  the 
other  hand  through  Woden  to  Adam  and  Eve !  Pass 
for  all  before  the  Stewart  line  became  Kings  of  Scots  ! 
Well,  it  seems  that  these  Lennox  Stewarts  sprang  from 
one  Walter,  who  was  son  to  King  Eobert  II.,  and  that 
the  mother  of  this  same  Walter  was  called  Arnhild,  or 
as  the  Scots  here  call  it  Annaple,  but  the  scholars  have 
made  it  into  Arabella,  and  so  my  young  lady  is  to  be 
called.  They  say  it  was  a  special  fancy  of  the  young 
Countess's." 

"  So  I  should  guess.  My  lady  would  fill  her  head 
with  such  thoughts,  and  of  this  poor  youth  being  next 
of  kin  to  the  young  Scottish  king,  and  to  our  own 
Queen." 

"  He  is  not  next  heir  to  Scotland  even,  barring  a 
little  one  we  wot  of,  Dame  Sue.  The  Hamiltons  stand 
between,  being  descended  from  a  daughter  of  King 
James  I." 

"  So  methought  I  had  heard.     Are  they  not  Papists  ?" 

"  Yea !  Ah  ha,  sweetheart,  there  is  another  of  the 
house  of  Hardwicke  as  fain  to  dreams  of  greatness  for 
her  child  as  ever  was  the  Countess,  though  she  may 
be  more  discreet  in  the  telling  of  them." 

"  Ah  me,  dear  sir,  I  dreamt  not  of  greatness  for 
splendour's  sake — 'twere  scarce  for  the  dear  child's 
happiness.  I  only  thought  of  what  you  once  said, 
that  she  may  be  the  instrument  of  preserving  the  true 
religion." 

"  And  if  so,  it  can  only  be  at  a  mighty  cost!"  said 
her  husband. 

'*  Verily,"  said  Susan,  "  glad  am  I  that  you  sent  our 
Plumfrey  from  her.  Would  that  nought  had  ever 
passed  between  the  children  !" 


IX.]  UNQUIET.  115 

"  They  were  but  cliildren,"  said  RicLaid  ;  "  and  there 
was  no  contract  between  them." 

"*I  fear  me  there  was  what  Hiimfrey  will  hold  to, 
or  know  good  reason  why,"  said  his  mother. 

"  And  were  the  young  King  of  Scots  married  and 
father  to  a  goodly  heir,  there  is  no  reason  he  should 
not  hold  to  it,"  rejoined  Eichard. 

However  Richard  was  still  anxious  to  keep  his  son 
engaged  at  a  distance  from  Sheffield.  There  was  great 
rejoicing  and  thankfulness  when  one  of  the  many 
messengers  constantly  passing  between  London  and 
Sheffield  brought  a  packet  from  Humfrey,  whose  ship 
had  put  into  the  Thames  instead  of  the  Humber. 

The  packet  contained  one  of  the  black  stones  which 
the  science  of  the  time  expected  to  transmute  into  gold, 
also  some  Esquimaux  trinkets  made  of  bone,  and  a  few 
shells.  These  were  for  the  mother  and  Cis,  and  there 
were  also  the  tusks  of  a  sea-elephant  which  Humfrey 
would  lay  up  at  my  Lord's  London  lodgings  till  his 
father  sent  tidings  what  should  be  done  with  them,  and 
whether  he  should  come  home  at  once  by  sea  to  Hull, 
or  if,  as  he  much  desired  to  do,  he  might  join  an  expe- 
dition which  was  fitting  out  for  the  Spanish  Main,  where 
he  was  assured  that  much  more  both  of  gold  and  hon- 
our was  to  be  acquired  than  in  the  cold  northern  seas, 
where  nothing  was  to  be  seen  for  the  fog  at  most  times, 
and  when  it  cleared  only  pigmies,  with  their  dogs,  white 
beais,  and  seals,  also  mountains  of  ice  bigger  than  any 
church,  blue  as  my  lady's  best  sapj)liires,  green  as  her 
emeralds,  sparkling  as  her  diamonds,  but  ready  to  be 
the  destruction  of  the  ships. 

"  One  there  was,"  wrote  Humfrey,  "  that  I  could 
have  thought  was  no  other  than  tlie  City  that  the 
blessed  St.  John  saw  descending  from  Heaven,  so  fair 


116  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOEY.  [CHAP, 

was  it  to  look  on,  but  they  cried  out  that  it  was  rathei 
a  City  of  Destruction,  and  when  we  had  got  out  of  the 
current  where  it  was  bearing  down  on  us,  our  lioblo 
captain  pijDed  all  hands  up  to  prayers,  and  gave  thanks 
for  our  happy  deliverance  therefrom." 

Susan  breathed  a  thanksgiving  as  her  husband  read, 
and  he  forbore  to  tell  her  of  the  sharks,  the  tornadoes, 
and  the  fevers  which  might  make  the  tropical  seas  more 
perilous  than  the  Arctic.  No  Elizabethan  mariner  had 
any  scruples  respecting  piracy,  and  so  long  as  the  cap- 
tain was  a  godly  man  who  kept  up  strict  discipline  on 
board.  Master  Eichard  held  the  quarterdeck  to  be  a 
much  more  wholesome  place  than  the  Manor-house, 
and  much  preferred  the  humours  of  the  ship  to  those 
of  any  other  feminine  creature ;  for,  as  to  his  Susan,  he 
always  declared  that  she  was  the  only  woman  who  had 
none. 

So  she  accepted  his  decision,  and  saw  the  wisdom 
of  it,  though  her  tender  heart  deeply  felt  the  disap- 
pointment. Tenderly  she  packed  up  the  shirts  which 
she  and  Cis  had  finished,  and  bestrewed  them  with 
lavender,  which,  as  she  said,  while  a  tear  dropped  with 
the  gray  blossoms,  would  bring  the  scent  of  home  to 
the  boy. 

Cis  affected  to  be  indifferent  and  offended.  "Mas- 
ter Humfrey  might  do  as  he  chose.  She  did  not  care 
if  he  did  prefer  pitch  and  tar,  and  whale  blubber  and 
grease,  to  hawks  and  houuds,  and  lords  and  ladies.  She 
was  sure  she  wanted  no  more  great  lubberly  lads — with 
a  sly  cut  at  Diccon — to  tangle  her  silk,  and  torment 
her  to  bait  their  hooks.  She  was  well  quit  of  any  one 
*of  them. 

When  Diccon  proposed  that  she  should  write  a 
letter  to  Humfrey,  she  declared  that  she  shciuld  do  no 


IX.]  UNQUIET.  117 

such  thing,  since  he  had  never  attempted  to  write  to 
her.  In  truth  Diccon  may  have  made  the  proposal 
in  order  to  obtain  a  companion  in  misfortune,  since 
Master  Sniggius,  emulous  of  the  success  of  other  tutors, 
insisted  on  his  writing  to  his  brother  in  Latin,  and  the 
unfortunate  epistle  of  Eicardus  to  Onofredus  was 
revised  and  corrected  to  the  last  extremity,  and  as  it 
was  allowed  to  contain  no  word  unknown  to  Virgilius 
Maro,  it  could  not  have  afforded  much  delectation  to 
the  recipient. 

But  when  Mrs.  Susan  had  bestowed  all  the  shirts 
as  neatly  as  possible,  on  returning  to  settle  them  for 
the  last  time  before  wrapping  them  up  for  the  messen- 
ger, she  felt  something  hard  among  them.  It  was  a 
tiny  parcel  wrapped  in  a  piece  of  a  fine  kerchief,  tied 
round  with  a  tress  of  dark  hair,  and  within,  Susan 
knew  by  the  feeling,  a  certain  chess  rook  which  had 
been  won  by  Cis  when  shooting  at  the  butts  a  week 
or  two  before. 


118  UJSKJS'OW:^  TO  HISTOKY.  [CHAP 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE   LADY  AEBELL. 

After  several  weary  months  of  langnishing,  Charles 
Stewart  was  saved  from  the  miseries  which  seemed 
the  natural  inheritance  of  his  name  by  sinking  into 
his  grave.  His  funeral  was  conducted  with  the 
utmost  magnificence,  though  the  Earl  of  Shrewsbury 
declined  to  be  present  at  it,  and  shortly  after,  the 
Countess  intimated  her  purpose  of  returning  to  Sheffield, 
bringing  with  her  the  little  orphan,  Lady  Arabella 
Stewart.  Orders  came  that  the  best  presence  chamber  in 
the  Manor-house  should  be  prepared,  the  same  indeed 
where  Queen  Mary  had  been  quartered  before  the 
lodge  had  been  built  for  her  use.  The  Earl  was 
greatly  perturbed.  "  Whom  can  she  intend  to  bring  ?  " 
lie  went  about  asking.  "  If  it  were  the  Lady  Margaret, 
it  were  as  much  as  my  head  were  worth  to  admit  her 
within  the  same  grounds  as  this  Queen." 

"  There  is  no  love  lost  between  the  mother-in-law 
and  daughter-in-law,"  observed  his  son  Gilbert  in  a 
consolatory  tone. 

"  Little  good  would  that  do  to  me,  if  once  it  came 
to  tlie  ears  of  her  Grace  and  the  Lord  Treasurer  that 
both  had  been  my  guests  !  And  if  I  had  to  close  the 
gates — though  in  no  other  way  could  I  save  my  life 


X.]  THE  LADY  AKBELL.  119 

and  liononr — your  mother  would  never  forget  it.  It 
would  be  ca.;t  up  to  me  for  ever.  What  think  you, 
daughter  Talbot  ? " 

"  Mayhap,"  said  Dame  Mary,  "  my  lady  mother 
has  had  a  hint  to  make  ready  for  her  Majesty  herself, 
who  hath  so  often  spoken  of  seeing  the  Queen  of 
Scots,  and  might  think  well  to  take  her  unawares." 

This  was  a  formidable  suggestion.  "  Say  you  so," 
cried  the  poor  Earl,  with  an  alarm  his  eye  would  never 
have  betrayed  had  Parma  himself  been  within  a  march 
of  Sheffield,  "  then  w^ere  we  fairly  spent.  I  am  an 
impoverished  man,  eaten  out  of  house  and  lands  as  it 
is,  and  were  the  Queen  herself  to  come,  I  might  take 
at  once  to  the  beggar's  bowl." 

"  But  think  of  the  honour,  good  my  lord,"  cried 
Mary.  "  Think  of  all  Hallamshire  coming  to  do  her 
homage.  Oh,  how  I  should  laugh  to  hear  the  Mayor 
stumbling  over  his  address." 

"  Laugh,  ay,"  growled  the  Earl ;  *'  and  how  will 
you  laugh  when  there  is  not  a  deer  left  in  the  park, 
nor  an  ox  in  the  stalls  ? " 

"  Nay,  my  Lord,"  interposed  Gilbert,  "  there  is  no 
fear  of  her  Majesty's  coming.  That  post  from  M.  de 
la  Mauvissiere  reported  her  at  Greenwich  only  five 
days  back,  and  it  would  take  her  Majesty  a  far  longer 
time  to  make  her  progress  than  yonder  fellow,  who 
will  tell  you  himself  that  she  had  no  thoughts  of 
moving." 

"  That  might  only  be  a  feint  to  be  the  more  sudden 
with  us,"  said  his  wife,  actuated  in  part  by  the  diversion 
of  alarming  her  father-in-law,  and  in  part  really  fired 
by  the  hope  of  such  an  effectual  enlivenment  of  the 
dulness  of  Sheffield. 

They  were  all  in  full  family  conclave  diawn  up  in 


120  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOIiY.  [CHAP 

the  hall  for  the  reception,  and  Mistress  Susan,  wlio 
could  not  bear  to  see  the  Earl  so  perplexed  and 
anxious,  ventured  to  say  that  she  was  quite  sure  that 
my  Lady  Countess  would  have  sent  warning  forward 
if  indeed  she  were  bringing  home  such  a  guest,  and  at 
tliat  moment  the  blare  of  trumpets  announced  that 
the  cavalcade  was  approaching.  The  start  "which  the 
Earl  gave  showed  how  much  his  nerves  had  become 
affected  by  his  years  of  custody.  Up  the  long 
avenue  they  came,  with  all  the  state  with  which 
the  Earl  had  conducted  Queen  Mary  to  the  lodge 
before  she  was  absolutely  termed  a  prisoner.  Hal- 
berdiers led  the  procession,  horse  and  foot  seemed 
to  form  it.  The  home  party  stood  on  the  top  of  the 
steps  watching  with  much  anxiety.  There  was  a 
closed  litter  visible,  beside  which  Lady  Shrewsbury, 
in  a  mourning  dress  and  hood,  could  be  seen  riding  her 
favourite  bay  jDalfrey.  No  doubt  it  contained  the  Lady 
Margaret,  Countess  of  Lennox ;  and  the  unfortunate  Earl, 
forgetting  all  his  stately  dignity,  stood  uneasily  moving 
from  leg  to  leg,  and  pulling  his  long  beard,  torn 
between  the  instincts  of  hospitality  and  of  loyal  obedi- 
ence, between  fear  of  his  wife  and  fear  of  the  Queen. 

The  litter  halted  at  the  foot  cf  the  steps,  the  Earl 
descended.  All  he  saw  v/as  the  round  face  of  an 
infant  in  its  nurse's  arms,  and  he  turned  to  "aelp  his  wife 
from  the  saddle,  but  she  waved  him  aside.  "  My  son 
Gilbert  will  aid  me,  my  Lord,"  said  she,  "  your  devoir  is 
to  the  princess." 

Poor  Lord  Shrewsbury,  his  apologies  on  his  tongue, 
looked  into  the  litter,  where  he  saw  the  well-known 
and  withered  countenance  of  the  family  nurse.  He  also 
beheld  a  buxom  young  female,  whose  di-ess  marked  her 
as  a  peasant,  but  before  he  had  time  to  seek  further  for 


X.]  THE  LADY  AEBELL.  121 

the  princess,  the  tightly  rolled  chrysalis  of  a  child  was 
thrust  ijito  his  astonished  arms,  while  the  round  face 
puckered  up  instantly  with  terror  at  sight  of  his 
bearded  countenance,  and  he  was  greeted  with  a  loud 
yell.  H«  looked  helplessly  round,  and  his  lady  was 
ready  at  .^nce  to  relieve  him.  "  My  precious  !  My 
sweetheart !  My  jewel !  Did  he  look  sour  at  her  and 
frighten  her  with  his  ugsome  beard  ?"  and  the  like 
endearments  common  to  grandmothers  in  all  ages. 

"  But  where  is  the  princess  ?" 

"  Where  ?  Where  should  she  be  but  here  ?  Her 
grandame's  own  precious,  royal,  queenly  little  darling  !" 
and  as  a  fresh  cry  broke  out,  "  Yes,  yes ;  she  shall  to 
her  presence  chamber.     Usher  her,  Gilbert." 

"  Bess's  brat !"  muttered  Dame  Mary,  in  ineffable 
disappointment. 

Curiosity  and  the  habit  of  obedience  to  the  Countess 
carried  the  entire  troop  on  to  the  grand  apartments  on 
the  south  side,  where  Queen  Mary  had  been  lodged  while 
the  fiction  of  her  guestship  had  been  kept  up.  Lady 
Shrewsbury  was  all  the  time  trying  to  hush  the  child, 
who  was  quite  old  enough  to  be  terrified  by  new  faces 
and  new  scenes,  and  who  was  besides  tired  and  restless 
in  her  aw^addling  bands,  for  which  she  was  so  nearly 
too  old  that  she  had  only  been  kept  in  them  for  greater 
security  upon  the  rough  and  dangerous  roads.  Great 
was  my  lady's  indignation  on  reaching  the  state 
rooms  on  finding  that  no  nursery  preparations  had 
been  made,  and  her  daughter  Mary,  with  a  giggle 
hardly  repressed  by  awe  of  her  mother,  stood  forth  and 
said,  "  Why,  verily,  my  lady,  we  expected  some  great 
dame,  my  Lady  Margaret  or  my  Lady  Hunsdon  at  the 
very  least,  when  you  spoke  of  a  princess." 

"  And  who  should  it  be  but  one  who  has  both  the 


122  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOKY.  [CHAP. 

royal  blood  of  England  and  Scotland  in  her  veins  ? " 
You  have  not  saluted  the  child  to  whom  you  have  the 
honour  to  be  akin,  Mary  !  On  your  knee,  minion  ;  I 
tell  you  she  hath  as  good  or  a  better  chance  of  wearing 
a  crown  as  any  woman  in  England." 

"  She  hath  a  far  better  chance  of  a  prison," 
muttered  the  Earl,  "  if  all  this  foolery  goes  on." 

"What!  What  is  that?  What  are  you  calling 
these  honours  to  my  orphan  princess  ?"  cried  the  lady, 
but  the  princess  herself  here  broke  in  with  the  lustiest 
of  squalls,  and  Susan,  who  was  sorry  for  the  child, 
contrived  to  insert  an  entreaty  that  my  lady  would 
permit  her  to  be  taken  at  once  to  the  nursery  chamber 
that  had  been  made  ready  for  her,  and  let  her  there  be 
fed,  warmed,  and  undressed  at  once. 

There  was  something  in  the  quality  of  Susan's  voice 
to  which  people  listened,  and  the  present  necessity 
overcame  the  Countess's  desire  to  assert  the  dignity  of 
her  granddaughter,  so  she  marched  out  of  the  room 
attended  by  the  women,  while  the  Earl  and  his  sons 
were  only  too  glad  to  slink  away — there  is  no  other  word 
for  it,  their  relief  as  to  the  expected  visitor  having  been 
exchanged  for  consternation  of  another  description. 

There  was  a  blazing  fire  ready,  and  all  the  baby 
comforts  of  the  time  provided,  and  poor  little  Lady 
Arbell  was  relieved  from  her  swathing  bands,  and 
allowed  to  stretch  her  little  limbs  on  her  nurse's  lap, 
the  one  rest  really  precious  to  babes  of  all  periods  and 
conditions — but  the  troubles  were  not  yet  over,  for  the 
grandmother,  glancing  rouud,  demanded,  "  Where  is  the 
cradle  inlaid  with  pearl  ?  Why  was  it  not  provided  ? 
Bring  it  here." 

Now  this  cradle,  carved  in  cedar  wood  and  inlaid 
with  mother-of-pearl,  had  been  a  sponsor's  gift  to  poor 


X.]  THE  LADY  ARBELL.  123 

little  George,  the  first  male  heir  of  the  Talbots,  and  it 
was  ref;ard(5d  as  a  special  treasure  by  his  mother,  who 
was  both  wounded  and  resentful  at  the  demand,  and 
stood  pouting  and  saying,  "  It  was  my  son's.  It  is 
mine." 

"  It  belongs  to  the  family.  You,"  to  two  of  the 
servants,  "  fetch  it  here  instantly  !" 

The  ladies  of  Hardwicke  race  were  not  guaid^d  in 
temper  or  language,  and  Mary  burst  into  passionate 
tears  and  exclamations  that  Bess's  brat  should  not 
have  her  lost  George's  cradle,  and  flounced  away  to  get 
before  the  servants  and  lock  it  up.  Lady  Shrewsbury 
would  have  sprung  after  her,  and  have  made  no  scruple 
of  using  her  fists  and  nails  even  on  her  married 
daughter,  but  that  she  was  impeded  by  a  heavy  table, 
and  this  gave  time  for  Susan  to  throw  herself  before 
her,  and  entreat  her  to  pause. 

"  You,  you,  Susan  Talbot !  You  should  know  better 
than  to  take  the  part  of  an  undutiful,  foul-tongued 
vixen  like  that.  Out  of  my  way,  I  say !"  and  as 
Susan,  still  on  her  knees,  held  the  riding-dress,  she 
received  a  stinging  box  on  the  ear.  But  in  her  maiden 
days  she  had  known  the  weiglit  of  my  lady's  hand,  and 
without  relaxing  her  hold,  she  only  entreated  :  "  Hear 
me,  hear  me  for  a  little  space,  my  lady.  Did  you  but 
know  how  sore  her  heart  is,  and  how  she  loved  little 
Master  George  !" 

"  That  is  no  reason  she  should  flout  and  miscall 
her  dead  sister,  of  whom  she  was  always  jealous  !" 

"  0  madam,  she  wept  with  all  her  heart  for  poor 
Lady  Lennox.  It  is  not  any  evil,  but  she  sets  such 
store  by  that  cradle  in  which  her  child  died  —  she 
keeps  it  by  her  bed  even  now,  and  her  woman  told 
me  how,  for  all  she    seems   gay  and  blithe  by  day, 


124  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

she  weeps  over  it  at  niglit,  as  if  her  heart  would 
break." 

Lady  Shrewsbury  was  a  little  softened.  "  The 
child  died  in  it  ?"  she  asked. 

"  Yea,  madam.  He  had  been  on  his  father's  knee, 
and  had  seemed  a  little  easier,  and  as  if  he  might 
sleep,  so  Sir  Gilbert  laid  him  down,  and  he  did  but 
stretch  himself  out,  shiver  all  over,  draw  a  long  breath 
and  the  pretty  lamb  was  gone  to  Paradise!" 

"You  saw  him,  Susan  ?" 

"  Yea,  madam.  Dame  Mary  sent  for  me,  but  none 
could  be  of  any  aid  where  it  was  the  will  of  Heaven 
to  take  him." 

"  If  I  had  been  there,"  said  the  Countess,  "  I  who 
have  brought  up  eight  children  and  lost  none,  I  should 
have  saved  him  !  So  he  died  in  yonder  cedar  cradle  ! 
Well,  e'en  let  Mary  keep  it.  It  may  be  that  there  is 
infection  in  the  smell  of  the  cedar  wood,  and  that  the 
child  will  sleep  better  out  of  it.  It  is  too  late  to  do 
aught  this  evening,  but  to-morrow  the  child  shall  be 
lodged  as  befits  her  birth,  in  the  presence  chamber." 

"Ah,  madam!"  said  Susan,  "would  it  be  well  for 
the  sweet  babe  if  her  Majesty's  messengers,  who  be  so 
often  at  the  castle,  were  to  report  her  so  lodged  ?" 

"  I  have  a  right  to  lodge  my  grandchild  where  and 
how  I  please  in  my  own  liouse." 

"  Yea,  madam,  that  is  most  true,  but  you  wot  how 
the  Queen,  treats  all  who  may  have  any  claim  to  the 
throne  in  future  times ;  and  were  it  reported  by  any  of 
the  spies  that  are  ever  about  us,  how  royal  honours 
were  paid  to  the  little  Lady  Arbell,  might  she  not  be 
taken  from  your  ladyship's  wardship,  and  bestowed  with 
those  who  would  not  show  her  such  loving  care  ?" 

The  Countess  would   not  show  whether  this  had 


X,]  THE  LADY  AEBELL.  125 

any  effect  on  her,  or  else  some  sound  made  by  the 
child  attracted  her.  It  was  a  puny  little  thing,  and 
she  had  a  true  grandmother's  affection  for  it,  apart 
from  her  absurd  pride  and  ambition,  so  that  she  was 
glad  to  hold  counsel  over  it  with  Susan,  who  had  done 
such  justice  to  her  training  as  to  be,  in  her  eyes,  a 
moUier  who  had  sense  enough  not  to  let  her  children 
waste  and  die ;  a  rare  merit  in  those  days,  and  one 
that  Susan  could  not  disclaim,  though  she  knew  that 
it  did  not  properly  belong  to  her. 

Cis  had  stood  by  all  the  time  like  a  little  statue, 
for  no  one,  not  even  young  Lady  Talbot,  durst  sit 
down  uninvited  in  the  presence  of  Earl  or  Countess ; 
but  her  black  brows  were  bent,  her  gray  eyes  intent. 

"  Mother,"  she  said,  as  they  went  home  on  their 
quiet  mules,  "  are  great  ladies^  always  so  rudely  spoken 
to  one  another  ?"  • 

"  I  have  not  seen  many  great  ladies,  Cis,  and  my 
Lady  Countess  has  always  been  good  to  me." 

"  Antony  said  that  the  Scots  Queen  and  her  ladies 
never  storm  at  one  another  like  my  lady  and  her 
daughters." 

"  Open  words  do  not  always  go  deep,  Cis,"  said  the 
mother.  "  I  had  rather  know  and  hear  the  worst  at 
once."  And  then  her  heart  smote  her  as  she  recol- 
lected that  she  might  be  implying  censure  of  the  girl's 
true  mother,  as  well  as  defending  vrrath  and  passion, 
and  she  added,  "  Be  that  as  it  may,  ifc  is  a  happy  thing 
to  learn  to  refrain  the  tongue." 


126  UNKl^'OWN  TO  HISTOKY.  [CHAP 


CHAPTER  XI. 

QUEEN  MAEY's  PRESENCE   CHAMBEB. 

The  storm  that  followed  on  the  instalment  of  the  Lady 
Arbell  at  Sheriield  was  the  precursor  of  many  more. 
Her  grandmother  did  sufficiently  awake  to  the  danger 
of  alarming  the  jealousy  of  Queen  Elizabeth  to  submit 
to  leave  her  in  the  ordinary  chambers  of  the  children 
of  the  house,  and  to  exact  no  Extraordinary  marks  of 
respect  towards  the  unconscious  infant ;  but  there  was 
no  abatement  in  the  Countess's  firm  belief  that  an 
Enghsh-born,  English -bred  chUd,  would  have  more 
right  to  the  crown  than  any  "  foreign  princes,"  as  she 
contemptuously  termed  the  Scottish  Queen  and  her 
son. 

Moreover,  in  her  two  years'  intercourse  with  the 
elder  Countess  of  Lennox,  who  was  a  gentle-tempered 
but  commonplace  woman,  she  had  adopted  to  the  full 
that  unfortunate  princess's  entire  belief  in  the  guilt  of 
Queen  Mary,  and  entertained  no  doubt  that  she  had 
been  the  murderer  of  Darnley.  Old  Lady  Lennox 
liad  seen  no  real  evidence,  and  merely  believed  what 
she  was  told  by  her  lord,  whose  impeachment  of  Botli- 
well  had  been  baffled  by  the  Queen  in  a  most 
suspicious  manner.  Conversations  with  this  lady  had 
entirely  changed  Lady  Shrewsbury  from  the  friendly 


XI.]  QUEEN  Mary's  tkesence  chamber.  127 

hostess  of  her  illustrious  captive,  to  be  her  enemy  and 
persecutor,  partly  as  being  convinced  of  her  guilt, 
partly  as  regarding  her  as  an  obstacle  in  the  path  of 
little  Arbell  to  the  throne.  So  she  not  only  refused 
to  j)ay  her  respects  as  usual  to  "  that  murtheress,'  but 
she  insisted  that  hei'  husband  should  tighten  the  bonds 
of  restraint,  and  cut  off  all  indulgences. 

The  Countess  was  one  of  the  women  to  whom 
argument  and  reason  are  impossible,  and  who  was  en- 
tirely swayed  by  her  predilections,  as  well  as  of  so 
imperious  a  nature  as  to  brook  no  opposition,  and  to 
be  almost  always  able  to  sweep  every  one  along  with 
her. 

Her  own  sons  always  were  of  her  mind,  and  her 
daufvhters  might  fret  and  chafe,  but  were  sure  to  take 
part  with  her  against  every  one  else  outside  the  Caven- 
dish family.  The  idea  of  being  kinsfolk  to  the  future 
Queen  excited  them  all,  and  even  Mary  forgot  her 
offence  about  the  cradle,  and  her  jealousy  of  Bess,  and 
ranked  herself  against  her  stepfather,  influencing  her 
husband,  Gilbert,  on  whom  the  unfortunate  Earl  had 
hitherto  leant.  On  his  refusal  to  persecute  his  un- 
fortunate captive  beyond  the  orders  from  the  Court, 
Bess  of  Hardwicke,  emboldened  by  the  support  she 
had  gathered  from  her  children,  passionately  declaied 
that  it  could  only  be  because  he  was  himself  in  love 
with  the  murtheress.  Lord  Shrewsbury  could  not 
help  laughing  a  little  at  the  absurdity  of  the  idcfi, 
whereupon  my  lady  rose  up  in  virtuous  indignation, 
calling  her  sons  and  daughters  to  follow  her. 

All  that  night,  lights  might  have  been  seen  flitting 
about  at  the  Manor-house,  and  early  in  the  mornit)g 
bugles  sounded  to  horse.  A  huge  procession,  consist- 
ing  of  the    Countess   herself,   and   all   her    sons   and 


128  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

daughters  then  at  Sheffield,  little  Lady  Arbell,  and 
the  whole  of  their  attendants,  swept  out  of  the  gates 
of  the  park  on  the  way  to  Hard  wick  e.  When  Eichard 
Talbot  went  up  to  fulfil  his  duties  as  gentleman  porter 
at  the  lodge  the  courts  seemed  well-nigh  deserted,  and 
a  messenger  summoned  him  at  once- to  the  Earl,  wliom 
he  found  in  his  bed-chamber  in  his  morning  gown 
terribly  perturbed. 

"  For  Heaven's  sake  send  for  your  wife,  Eichard 
Talbot !"  he  said.  "  It  is  her  Majesty's  charge  that 
some  of  mine  household,  or  1  myself,  see  this  unhappy 
Queen  of  Scots  each  day  for  not  less  than  two  hours, 
as  you  well  know.  My  lady  has  broken  away,  and 
all  her  daughters,  on  this  accursed  fancy — yea,  and 
Gilbert  too,  Gilbert  whom  I  always  looked  to  to  stand 
by  me  ;  I  have  no  one  to  send.  If  I  go  and  attend  upon 
her  alone,  as  I  have  done  a  thousand  times  to  my 
sorrow,  it  will  but  give  colour  to  the  monstrous  tale ; 
but  if  your  good  wife,  an  honourable  lady  of  the 
Hardwicke  kin,  against  whom  none  ever  breathed  a 
word,  will  go  and  give  the  daily  attendance,  then  can 
not  the  Queen  herself  find  fault,  and  my  wife's  heated 
fancy  can  coin  nothing  suspicious.  You  must  all  come 
up,  and  lodge  here  in  the  Manor-house  till  this  tempest 
be  overpast.  Oh,  Eichard,  Eichard  !  will  it  last  out 
my  life  ?  My  very  children  are  turned  against  me. 
Go  you  down  and  fetch  your  good  Susan,  and  take 
order  for  bringing  up  your  children  and  gear.  Ben- 
thall  shall  take  your  turn  at  the  lodge.  What  are  yon 
tarrying  for  ?  Do  you  doubt  whether  your  wife  have 
rank  enough  to  wait  on  the  Queen  ?  She  should  have 
been  a  knight's  lady  long  ago,  but  that  I  deemed  you 
w^ould  be  glad  to  be  quit  of  herald's  fees ;  your  service 
and  estate  have  merited  it,  and  I  will  crave  license  by 


XI.]  QUEEN  Mary's  peesence  chamber  129 

to-day's  courier  from  her  Majesty  to  lay  knightliooj 
on  your  shoulder." 

"  That  was  not  what  I  thought  of,  my  Lord,  though 
I  humbly  thank  you,  and  would  be  whatever  was  best 
foi  your  Lordship's  service,  though,  if  it  would  serve 
you  as  well,  I  would  rather  be  squire  than  knight ; 
but  I  was  bethinking  me  how  we  should  bestow  our 
small  family.  We  have  a  young  damsel  at  an  age  not 
to  be  left  to  herself." 

"The  black-browed  maid — I  recollect  her.  Let 
hei"  e'en  follow  her  mother.  Queen  Mary  likes  a  young 
face,  and  is  kindly  disposed  to  little  maids.  She 
taught  Bess  Pierrepoint  ~to  speak  French  and  work 
with  her  needle,  and  I  cannot  see  that  she  did  the  lass 
any  harm,  nay,  she  is  the  only  one  of  them  all  that 
can  rule  her  tongue  to  give  a  soft  answer  if  things 
go  not  after  her  will,  and  a  maid  might  learn  worse 
things.  Besides,  your  wife  will  be  there  to  look 
after  the  maiden,  so  you  need  have  no  fears.  And 
for  your  sons,  they  will  be  at  school,  and  can  eat 
with  us." 

Eichard's  doubts  being  thus  silenced  he  could  not 
but  bring  his  wife  to  his  lord's  rescue,  though  he  well 
knew  that  Susan  would  be  greatly  disturbed  on  all 
accounts,  and  indeed  he  found  her  deep  in  the  ironing 
that  followed  the  great  spring  wash,  and  her  housewifely 
mind  v^as  as  much  exercised  as  to  the  effects  of  her 
desertion,  as  was  her  maternal  prudence  at  the  plunge 
which  her  unconscious  adopted  child  was  about  to 
make.  However,  there  was  no  denying  the  request 
backed  as  it  was  by  her  husband,  looking  at  her 
proudly,  and  declaring  slie  was  by  general  consent 
the  only  discreet  woman  in  Sheffield.  She  was  very 
sorry  for  the  Earl's  perplexity,  and  had  a  loyal  pity 


130  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOEY.  [CIIAP 

for  the  Countess's  vexation  and  folly,  and  she  was 
consoled  by  the  assurance  that  she  would  have  a  free 
tune  between  dinner  and  supper  to  go  home  and 
attend  to  her  wash,  and  fiuish  her  preparations.  Cis, 
wlio  had  been  left  in  a  state  of  great  curiosity,  to 
continue  compounding  pickle  while  the  mother  was 
called  away,  was  summoned  to  don  her  holiday  kirtle, 
for  she  was  to  join  in  attendance  on  the  Queen  of 
Scots  while  Lady  Shrewsbury  and  her  daughters  were 
absent. 

It  was  unmixed  delight  to  the  girl,  and  she  was  not 
long  in  fresh-binding  up  her  hair — black  with  a  little 
rust-coloured  tinge — under  her  stiff  little  cap,  smooth- 
ing down  the  front,  which  was  alone  visible,  putting 
on  the  well-stiffeued  ruff  with  the  dainty  little  lace 
edge  and  close-fittiug  tucker,  and  then  the  gray  home- 
spun kirtle,  with  the  ruffs  at  the  top  of  the  tight 
sleeves,  and  the  slashes  into  which  she  had  persuaded 
mother  to  insert  some  old  pink  satin,  for  was  not  she 
sixteen  now,  and  almost  a  woman  ?  There  was  a  pink 
breast-knot  to  match,  and  Humfrey's  owch  just  above  it, 
gray  stockings,  home -spun  and  worked  with  elaborate 
pink  clocks,  but  knitted  by  Cis  herself;  and  a  pair  of 
shoes  with  pinli  roses  to  match  were  put  into  a  bag,  to 
be  assumed  when  she  arrived  at  the  lodge.  Out  of 
this  simple  finery  beamed  a  face,  bright  in  spite  of  the 
straight,  almost  bushy,  black  brows.  There  was  a  light 
of  youth,  joy,  and  intelligence,  about  her  gray  eyes 
wliich  made  them  sparkle  all  the  more  under  their 
dark  setting,  and  though  her  complexion  had  no 
brilliancy,  only  the  clearness  of  health,  and  her 
features  would  not  endure  criticism,  there  was  a 
wonderful  lively  sweetness  about  her  fresh,  innocent 
young  mouth ;    and  she  had  a  tall  lithe  figure,  sur- 


XI.]  QUEEN  Mary's  presence  chamber.  131 

passing  that  of  her  stepmother.  She  would  have  been 
a  sonsie  Border  lass  in  appearance  but  for  the  remark- 
able carriage  of  her  small  head  and  shoulders,  which 
was  assuredly  derived  from  her  royal  ancestry,  and 
indeed  her  air  and  manner  of  walking  were  such  that 
Diccon  had  more  than  once  accused  her  of  sailing 
about  ambling  like  the  Queen  of  Scots,  an  accusation 
which  she  hotly  denied.  Her  hands  had  likewise  a 
slender  form  and  fine  texture,  such  as  none  of  the 
ladies  of  the  houses  of  Talbot  or  Hardwicke  could 
rival,  but  she  was  on  the  whole  viewed  as  far  from 
being  a  beauty.  The  taste  of  the  day  was  altogether 
for  light,  sandy -haired,  small -featured  women,  like 
Queen  Elizabeth  or  her  namesake  of  Hardwicke,  so  that 
Cis  was  looked  on  as  a  sort  of  crow,  and  her  supposed 
parents  were  pitied  for  having  so  ill-favoured  a 
daughter,  so  unlike  all  their  families,  except  one  black- 
a-vised  Talbot  grandmother,  whose  portrait  had  been 
discovered  on  a  pedigree. 

Much  did  Susan  marvel  what  impression  the' 
daughter  would  make  on  the  true  mother  as  they 
jogged  up  on  their  sober  ponies  through  the  long 
avenues,  whose  branches  were  beginning  to  wear  the 
purple  shades  of  coming  spring. 

Lord  Shrewsbury  himself  met  them  in  front  of  the 
lodge,  where,  in  spite  of  all  his  dignity,  he  had 
evidently  been  impatiently  awaiting  them.  He 
thanked  Susan  for  coming,  as  if  he  had  not  had  a 
right  to  order,  gave  her  his  ungloved  hand  when  sh« 
luid  dismounted,  then  at  the  single  doorway  of  the 
lodge  caused  his  gentleman  to  go  through  the  form  of 
requesting  admission  for  himself  and  Mistress  Talbot, 
his  dear  kinswoman,  to  the  presence  of  the  Queen.  It 
was  a  ceremony  daily  observed  as  an  acknowledgment 


132  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [cHAP 

of  Mary's  royalty,  and  the  Earl  was  far  too  courteous 
ever  to  omit  it. 

Queen  Mary's  willingness  to  admit  him  was  notified 
by  Sir  Andrew  Melville,  a  tall,  worn  man,  with  the 
typical  Scottish  countenance  and  a  keen  steadfast  gray 
eye.  He  marshalled  the  trio  up  a  circular  staircase, 
made  as  easy  as  possible,  but  necessarily  narrow,  since 
it  wound  up  through  a  brick  turret  at  the  corner,  to 
the  third  and  uppermost  story  of  the  lodge. 

There,  however,  was  a  very  handsome  anteroom, 
with  tapestry  hangings,  a  richly  moulded  ceiling,  and 
wide  carved  stone  chimneypiece,  where  a  bright  fire  was 
burning,  around  which  sat  several  Scottish  and  French 
gentlemen,  who  rose  at  the  Earl's  entrance.  Another 
wide  doorway  with  a  tapestry  curtain  over  the  folding 
leaves  led  to  the  presence  chamber,  and  Sir  Andrew 
announced  in  as  full  style  as  if  he  had  been  marshal- 
ling an  English  ambassador  to  the  Court  of  Holyrood, 
the  most  high  and  mighty  Earl  of  Shrewsbury.  The 
room  was  full  of  March  sunshine^  and  a  great  wood 
fire  blazed  on  the  hearth.  Part  of  the  floor  was 
carpeted,  and  overhung  with  a  canopy,  proceeding  from 
the  tapestried  wall,  and  here  was  a  cross-legged  velvet 
chair  on  which  sat  Queen  Mary.  This  was  all  that 
Cis  saw  at  first,  while  the  Earl  advanced,  knelt  on 
one  step  of  the  dais,  with  bared  head,  exchanging 
greetings  with  the  Queen.  He  then  added,  that  his 
wife,  the  Countess,  and  her  daughter,  having  been 
called  away  from  Sheffield,  he  would  entreat  her 
Grace  to  accept  for  a  few  days  in  their  stead  the 
attendance  of  his  good  kinswoman,  Mrs.  Talbot,  and 
her  daughter,  Mistress  Cicely. 

Mary  graciously  intimated  her  consent,  and  extended 
her  hand  for  each  to  kiss  as  thev  knelt  in  turn  on  the 


XI.]  QUEEN  MARY'S  PRESENCE  CHAMBER.  133 

step  ;  Susan  either  fancied,  or  really  saw  a  wonderful 
likeness  in  that  taper  hand  to  the  little  one  whose 
stitches  she  had  so  often  guided.  Cis,  on  her  part, 
felt  the  thrill  of  girlhood  in  the  actual  touch  of  the 
subject  of  her  dreams.  She  stood,  scarcely  hearing 
what  passed,  but  taking  in,  from  under  her  black  brows, 
all  the  surroundings,  and  recognising  the  persons  from 
her  former  glimpses,  and  from  Antony  Babington's 
descriptions.  The  presence  chamber  was  ample  for 
the  suite  of  the  Queen,  which  had  been  reduced  on 
every  fresh  suspicion.  There  was  in  it,  besides  the 
Queen's  four  ladies,  an  elderly  one,  with  a  close  black 
silk  hood — Jean  Kennedy,  or  Mrs.  Kennett  as  the 
English  called  her  ;  another,  a  thin  slight  figure,  with  a 
worn  face,  as  if  a  great  sorrow  had  passed  over  her, 
making  her  look  older  than  her  mistress,  was  the 
Queen's  last  remaining  Mary,  otherwise  Mrs.  Seaton. 
The  gossip  of  Sheffield  had  not  failed  to  tell  how  the 
chamberlain,  Beatoun,  had  been  her  suitor,  and  she 
had  half  consented  to  accept  him  when  he  was  sent 
on  a  mission  to  France,  and  there  died.  The  dark- 
complexioned  bright-eyed  little  lady,  on  a  smaller  scale 
than  the  rest,  was  Marie  de  Courcelles,  who,  like  the 
two  otliers,  had  been  the  Queen's  companion  in  all 
her  adventures  ;  and  the  fourth,  younger  and  prettier 
than  the  rest,  was  already  known  to  Cis  and  her  mother, 
since  she  was  the  Barbara  Mowbray  who  was  affianced 
to  Gilbert  Curll,  the  Queen's  Scottish  secretary,  recently 
taken  into  her  service.  Both  these  were  Protestants, 
and,  like  the  Bridgefield  family,  attended  service  in 
the  castle  chapel.  They  were  all  at  work,  as  was  like- 
wise their  royal  lady,  to  whom  the  girl,  with  the  youth- 
ful coyness  that  halts  in  the  fulfilment  of  its  dreams, 
did  not  at  first  raise  her  eyes,  having  first  taken  in  all 


134  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

the  ladies,  the  several  portions  of  one  great  coverlet 
which  they  were  all  emljroidering  in  separate  pieces, 
and  the  genileman  who  was  reading  aloud  to  them  from 
a  large  book  placed  on  a  desk  at  which  he  was  standing. 
When  she  did  look  np,  as  the  Queen  was  graciously 
requesting  her  mother  to  be  seated,  and  the  Earl  excusing 
himself  from  remaining  longer,  her  first  impression  was 
one  of  disappointment.  Either  the  Queen  of  Scots  was 
less  lovely  seen  leisurely  close  at  hand  than  Antony 
Babington  and  Cis's  own  fancy  had  painted  her,  or  the 
last  two  or  three  years  had  lessened  her  charms,  as  well 
they  might,  for  slie  had  struggled  and  suffered  much 
in  the  interval,  had  undergone  many  bitter  disappoint- 
ments, and  had  besides  endured  much  from  rheu- 
matism every  winter,  indeed,  even  now  she  could  not 
ride,  and  could  only  go  out  in  a  carriage  in  the  park 
on  the  finest  days,  looking  forward  to  her  annual  visit 
to  Buxton  to  set  her  up  for  the  summer.  Her  face 
was  longer  and  more  pointed  than  in  former  days,  her 
complexion  had  faded,  or  perhaps  in  these  private 
moments  it  had  not  been  worth  while  to  enhance  it ; 
though  there  was  no  carelessness  in  the  general  attire, 
the  black  velvet  gown,  and  delicate  lace  of  the  cap, 
and  open  ruff  always  characteristic  of  her.  The  small 
curls  of  hair  at  her  temples  had  their  auburn  tint 
softened  by  far  more  white  than  suited  one  who  was 
only  just  over  forty,  but  the  delicate  pencilling  of  the 
eyebrows  was  as  marked  as  ever ;  and  the  eyes,  on 
whose  colour  no  one  ever  agreed,  melted  and  sparkled 
as  of  old.  Cis  had  heard  debates  as  to  their  hue,  and 
furtively  tried  to  form  her  own  opinion,  but  could  not 
decide  on  anything  but  that  they  had  a  dark  effect, 
and  a  wonderful  power  of  expression,  seeming  to  look 
at  every  one  at  once,  and  to  rebuke,  encourage,  plead, 


XI.]  QUEEN  MAEY'S  PRESENCE  CHAMBER.  135 

or  smile,  from  moment  to  moment.  The  slight  cast  in 
one  of  them  really  added  to  their  force  of  expression 
rather  than  detracted  from  their  heautj,  and  the  deli- 
cate lips  were  ready  to  second  the  glances  with 
wondrous  smiles.  Cis  had  not  felt  the  magic  of  her 
mere  presence  five  minutes  without  being  convinced 
that  Antony  Bahington  was  right ;  the  Lord  Treasurer 
and  all  the  rest  utterly  wrong,  and  that  she  beheld 
the  most  innocent  and  persecuted  of  princesses. 

Meantime,  all  due  formalities  having  been  gone 
through.  Lord  Shrewsbury  bowed  himself  out  backwards 
with  a  dexterity  that  Cis  breathlessly  admired  in  one  so 
stately  and  so  stiff,  forgetting  that  he  had  daily  practice 
in  the  art.  Then  Queen  Mary  courteously  entreated  her 
visitors  to  be  seated,  near  herself,  asking  with  a  smile 
if  this  were  not  the  little  maiden  who  had  queened 
it  so  prettily  in  the  brake  some  few  years  since. 
Cis  blushed  and  drew  back  her  head  with  a  pretty 
gesture  of  dignified  shyness  as  Susan  made  answer  for 
her  that  she  was  the  same. 

"  I  should  have  known  it,"  said  the  Queen,  smiling, 
"  by  the  port  of  her  head  alone.  'Tis  strange,"  she  said, 
musing,  "  that  maiden  hath  the  bearing  of  head  and 
neck  that  I  have  never  seen  save  in  my  own  mother, 
the  saints  rest  her  soul,  and  in  her  sisters,  and  which 
we  always  held  to  be  their  inheritance  from  the  blood 
of  Charlemagne." 

"  Your  grace  does  her  too  much  honour,"  Susan 
contrived  to  say,  thankful  that  no  less  remote  resem- 
blance had  been  detected. 

"  It  was  a  sad  farce  when  they  tried  to  repeat  your 
pretty  comedy  with  the  chief  performer  omitted,"  pro- 
ceeded the  Queen,  directing  her  words  to  the  gM,  but 
the  mother  replied  for  her. 


136  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

"  Your  Grace  will  pardon  me,  I  could  not  permit 
her  to  play  in  public,  before  all  the  menii  of  the  castle." 

"  Madame  is  a  discreet  and  prudent  mother,"  said 
the  Queen.  "  The  mistake  was  in  repeating  the  repre- 
sentation at  all,  not  in  abstaining  from  appearing  in 
it.  I  should  be  very  sorry  that  this  young  lady  should 
have  been  concerned  in  a  spectacle  a  la  comtesse." 

There  was  something  in  the  intonation  of  "  this 
young  lady "  that  won  Cis's  heart  on  the  spot,  some- 
thing in  the  concluding  words  that  hurt  Susan's  faith- 
ful loyalty  towards  her  kinswoman,  in  spite  of  the 
compliment  to  herself.  However  Mary  did  not  pursue 
the  subject,  perceiving  with  ready  tact  that  it  was  dis- 
tasteful, and  proceeded  to  ask  Dame  Susan's  opinion 
of  her  work,  which  was  intended  as  a  gift  to  her  good 
aunt,  the  Abbess  of  Soissons.  How  strangely  the 
name  fell  upon  Susan's  ear.  It  was  a  pale  blue  satin 
coverlet,  worked  in  large  separate  squares,  innumerable 
shields  and  heraldic  devices  of  Lorraine,  Bourbon, 
France,  Scotland,  etc.,  round  the  border,  and  beautiful 
meandering  patterns  of  branches,  with  natural  flowers 
and  leaves  growing  from  them  covering  the  whole  with 
a  fascinating  regular  irregularity.  Cis  could  not  repress 
an  exclamation  of  delight,  which  brought  the  most 
charming  glance  of  the  winning  eyes  upon  her.  There 
was  stitchery  here  that  she  did  not  understand,  but 
when  she  looked  at  some  of  the  flowers,  she  could  not 
help  uttering  the  sentiment  that  the  eyes  of  the  daisies 
were  not  as  mother  could  make  them. 

So,  as  a  great  favour.  Queen  ]Mary  entreated  to  be 
shown  Mrs.  Talbot's  mode  of  deahng  with  the  eyes  of 
the  daisies.  No,  her  good  Seaton  would  not  learn  so 
well  as  she  should ;  Madame  must  come  and  sit  by 
her  and  show  her.     Meantime  here  was  her  poor  little 


XI. J  QUEEN  MARY'S  PEESENCE  CHAMBER.  137 

Bijou  wliimpering  to  be  taken  on  her  lap.  Would  not 
he  find  a  comforter  in  sweet  Mistress- — ah,  what  was 
her  name  ? 

"  We  named  her  Cicely,  so  please  your  Grace, '  said 
Susan,  unable  to  help  blusliing. 

"  C^cile,  Or  fair  name.  Ah  !  so  the  poor  Antoine 
called  her.  I  see  my  Bijou  has  found  a  friend  in  you, 
Mistress  Cecile " — as  the  girl's  idle  hands  were  only 
too  happy  to  caress  the  pretty  little  shivering  Italian 
greyhound  rather  than  to  be  busy  with  a  needle.  "  Do 
you  ever  hear  of  that  young  Babington,  your  play- 
fellow ?"  she  added. 

"  No,  madam,"  said  Cis,  looking  up,  "  he  hath  never 
been  here !" 

"  I  thought  not,"  said  Queen  Mary,  sighing.  "  Take 
heed  to  manifest  no  pity  for  me,  maiden,  if  you  should 
ever  chance  to  be  inspired  with  it  for  a  poor  worn-out 
old  prisoner.  It  is  the  sure  sentence  of  misfortune  and 
banishment." 

"  In  his  sex,  madam,"  here  put  in  Marie  de  Cour- 
celles.     "  If  it  were  so  in  ours,  woe  to  some  of  us." 

"  That  is  true,  my  dear  friends,"  said  Mary,  her 
eyes  glistening  with  dew.  "  It  is  the  women  who  are 
the  most  fearless,  the  most  faithful,  and  whom  the  saints 
therefore  shield." 

"  Alas,  there  are  some  who  are  faithful  but  who  are 
not  shielded !" 

It  was  merely  a  soft  low  murmur,  but  the  tender- 
hearted Queen  had  caught  it,  and  rising  impulsively, 
crossed  the  room  and  gathered  Mary  Seaton's  hands 
into  hers,  no  longer  the  queen  but  the  loving  friend  of 
equal  years,  soothing  her  in  a  low  fond  voice,  and  pre- 
sently sending  her  to  the  inner  chamber  to  compose 
herself.     Then  as  the  Queen  returned  slowly  to  her 


138  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

seat  it  would  be  seen  how  lame  slie  was  from  rheuma- 
tism. Mrs.  Kennedy  hurried  to  assist  her,  with  a 
nurse-like  w^ord  of  remonstrance,  to  which  she  replied 
with  a  bewitching  look  of  sweetness  that  she  could  not 
but  forget  her  aches  and  pains  when  she  saw  her  dear 
Mary  Seaton  in  trouble. 

]\Iost  politely  she  then  asked  whether  lier  visitors 
would  object  to  listeniug  to  the  conclusion  of  her  day's 
portion  of  reading.  There  was  no  refusing,  of  course, 
though,  as  Susan  glanced  at  the  reader  and  knew  him 
to  be  strongly  suspected  of  being  in  Holy  Orders  con- 
ferred abroad,  she  had  her  fears  for  her  child's  Protestant 
principles.  The  book,  however,  proved  to  be  a  trans- 
lation of  St.  Austin  on  the  Psalms,  and,  of  course,  she 
could  detect  nothing  that  she  disapproved,  even  if 
Cis  had  not  been  far  too  much  absorbed  by  the  little 
dog  and  its  mistress  to  have  any  comprehending  ears 
for  theology.  Queen  Mary  confidentially  observed  as 
much  to  her  after  the  reading,  having,  no  doubt,  de- 
tected her  uneasy  glance. 

"  You  need  not  fear  for  your  child,  madam,"  she 
said ;  "  St.  Augustine  is  respected  by  your  own  Queen 
and  her  Bishops.  At  the  readings  with  which  my  good 
Mr.  Belton  favours  me,  I  take  care  to  have  nothing  you 
Protestants  dispute  when  I  know  it."  She  added, 
smiling,  "  Heaven  knows  that  I  have  endeavoured  to 
understand  your  faith,  and  many  a  minister  has  argued 
with  me.  I  have  done  my  best  to  comprehend  them,  but 
they  agreed  in  notliing  but  in  their  abuse  of  the  Pope. 
At  least  so  it  seemed  to  my  poor  weak  mind.  But 
you  are  satisfied,  madam,  I  see  it  in  your  calm  eyes 
and  gentle  voice.  If  I  see  much  of  you,  I  shall  learn 
to  think  well  of  your  religion." 

Susan  made  an  obeisance  without  answering.     Sh© 


XI.]  quei:n  MxVey's  tresence  chamber.  139 

had  heard  Sir  Gilbert  Talbot  say,  "  If  she  tries  to  per- 
suade you  that  you  can  couvert  her,  l)e  sure  that  she 
means  mischief,"  but  she  could  not  bear  to  believe  it 
any  tiling  but  a  libel  while  the  sweet  sad  face  was  gazing 
into  hers. 

Queeu  Mary  changed  the  subject  by  asking  a  few 
questions  about  the  Countess's  sudden  departure.  There 
was  a  sort  of  guarded  irony  suppressed  in  her  tone — she 
was  evidently  feeling  her  way  with  the  stranger,  and 
when  she  found  that  Susan  would  only  own  to  causes 
Lord  Shrewsbury  had  adduced  on  the  spur  of  the 
moment,  she  was  much  too  wary  to  continue  the 
examination,  though  Susan  could  not  help  thinking 
that  she  knew  full  well  the  disturbance  which  had 
taken  place. 

A  short  walk  on  the  roof  above  followed.  The  sun 
was  shining  brilliantly,  and  lame  as  she  was,  the  Queen's 
strong  craving  for  free  air  led  her  to  climb  her  stairs 
and  creep  to  and  fro  on  Sir  Andrew  Melville's  arm, 
gazing  out  over  the  noble  prospect  of  the  park  close 
below,  divided  by  the  winding  vales  of  the  three  rivers, 
which  could  be  traced  up  into  the  woods  and  the  moors 
beyond,  purple  with  spring  freshness  and  glory.  Mary 
made  her  visitors  point  oat  Bridgefield,  and  asked 
questions  about  all  that  could  be  seen  of  the  house 
and  pleasance,  which,  in  truth,  was  little  enough, 
but  she  contrived  to  set  Cis  off  into  a  girl's  chatter 
about  her  home  occupatious,  and  would  not  let  her  be 
hushed. 

"  You  little  know  the  good  it  does  a  captive  to  take 
part,  only  in  fancy,  in  a  free  harmless  life,"  returned 
]\Iary,  with  the  wistful  look  that  made  her  eyes  so 
pathetic.  "  There  is  no  rel'reshmcnt  to  me  like  a  child's 
prattle." 


140  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

Susan's  heart  smote  her  as  she  thought  of  the  true 
relations  in  which  tliese  two  stood  to  one  anotlier,  and 
she  forbore  from  further  interference ;  but  she  greatly 
rejoiced  when  the  great  bell  of  the  castle  gave  notice 
of  noon,  and  of  her  own  release.  When  Queen  Mary's 
dinner  was  served,  the  Talbot  ladies  in  attendance  left 
lier  and  repaired  to  the  general  family  meal  in  'ihe 
halL 


XII. J  A  rUiaOUS  LETIEB.  141 


CHAPTER  XIL 

A    FUKIOUS    LETTEK. 

A  PERIOD  now  began  of  daily  penance  to  Mrs.  Talbot, 
of  daily  excitement  and  delight  to  Cis.  Two  hours  or 
more  had  to  be  spent  in  attendance  on  Queen  Mary. 
Even  on  Sundays  there  was  no  exemption,  the  visit 
only  took  place  later  in  the  day,  so  as  not  to  interfere 
with  going  to  church. 

Nothing  could  be  more  courteous  or  more  friendly 
than  the  manner  in  which  the  elder  lady  was  always 
received.  She  was  always  made  welcome  by  the 
Queen  herself,  who  generally  entered  into  conversation 
with  her  almost  as  with  an  equal.  Or  when  Mary 
herself  was  engaged  in  her  privy  chamber  in  dictating 
to  her  secretaries,  the  ladies  of  the  suite  showed  them- 
selves equally  friendly,  and  told  her  of  their  mistress's 
satisfaction  in  having  a  companion  free  from  all  the 
iTide  and  unaccountable  humours  and  caprices  of  my 
Lady  Countess  and  her  daughters.  And  if  Susan  was 
favoured,  Cis  was  petted.  Queen  Mary  always  liked  to 
have  young  girls  about  her.  Their  fresh,  spontaneous, 
enthusiastic  homage  was  pleasant  to  one  who  loved 
above  all  to  attract,  and  it  was  a  pleasure  to  a  prisoner 
to  have  a  fresh  face  about  her. 

Was  it  only  this,  or  was  it  the  maternal  instinct 


142  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [cHAP. 

that  made  her  face  light  up  when  the  young  girl 
entered  the  room  and  return  the  shy  reverential  kiss 
of  the  hand  with  a  tender  kiss  on  the  forehead,  that 
made  her  encourage  the  chatter,  give  little  touches  to 
the  deportment,  ^nd  present  little  keepsakes,  which  in- 
creased in  value  till  Sir  Eichard  began  to  look  grave, 
and  to  say  there  must  be  no  more  jewels  of  price 
brought  from  the  lodge  ?  And  as  his  wife  uttered  a 
word  that  soimded  like  remonstrance,  he  added,  "  Not 
while  she  passes  for  my  daugliter." 

Cis,  who  had  begun  by  putting  on  a  pouting  face, 
burst  into  tears.  Her  adopted  parents  had  always 
been  more  tolerant  and  indulgent  to  her  than  if  she 
had  been  a  child  over  whom  they  felt  entire  rights, 
and  instead  of  rewarding  her  petulance  with  such  a 
blow  as  would  have  fallen  to  the  lot  of  a  veritable 
Talbot,  Eichard  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  left  the 
room — tlie  chamber  whicli  had  been  allotted  to  Dame 
Susan  at  the  Manor-house,  while  Susan  endeavoured 
to  cheer  the  girl  by  telling  her  not  to  grieve,  for  her 
father  was  not  angry  with  her. 

"  Why — why  may  not  the  dear  good  Queen  give  me 
her  dainty  gifts  ? '"'  sobbed  Cis. 

"  See,  dear  child,"  said  Susan,  "  while  she  only  gave 
thee  an  orange  stuck  with  cloves,  or  an  embroidery 
needle,  or  even  a  puppy  dog,  it  is  all  very  well  ;  but 
when  it  comes  to  Spanish  gloves  and  coral  clasps,  the 
next  time  there  is  an  outcry  about  a  plot,  some  evil- 
disposed  person  would  be  sure  to  say  that  Master  Eichard 
Talbot  had  been  taking  bribes  through  his  daughter." 

"  It  would  be  vilely  false ! "  cried  Cis  with  flashing 
eyes. 

"  It  would  not  be  the  less  believed,"  said  Susan. 
"  My  Lord  would  say  we  had  betrayd  our  trust,  and 


XII.]  A  FUmOUS  LETTEi;.  14.') 

there  never  has  been  one  stain  on  my  husband's 
honour." 

"  You  are  ^\Toth  with  me  too,  mother ! "  said  Cis. 

"  Not  if  you  are  a  good  child,  and  guard  the  honour 
of  the  name  you  bear." 

"  I  will,  I  will ! "  said  Cis.  "  Never  will  I  take 
another  gift  from  the   Queen  if  only  you  and  he  will 

call  me  your  child,  and  be- — good  to  me "    The  rest 

was  lost  in  tears  and  in  the  tender  caresses  that  Susan 
lavished  on  her  ;  all  the  more  as  she  caught  the 
broken  words,  "  Hunifrey,  too,  he  would  never  forgive 
me." 

Susan  told  her  husband  what  had  passed,  adding, 
"  She  will  keep  her  word." 

"  She  must,  or  she  shall  go  no  more  to  the  lodge," 
he  said. 

"  You  would  not  have  doubted  had  you  seen  her 
eye  flash  at  the  thought  of  bringing  your  honour  into 
question.      There  spoke  her  kingly  blood." 

"  Well,  we  shall  see,"  sighed  Eichard,  "  if  it  be 
blood  that  makes  the  nature.  I  fear  me  hers  is  but 
that  of  a  Scottish  thief  !  Scorn  not  warning,  mother, 
but  watch  thy  stranger  nestling  well." 

"  Nay,  mine  husband.  While  we  own  her  as  our 
child,  she  will  do  anything  to  be  one  with  us.  It  is 
when  we  seem  to  put  her  from  us  that  we  wound  her 
so  that  I  know  not  what  she  might  do,  fondled  as  she 
is — by — by  her  who — has  the  best  right  tc  the  dear 
child." 

Eichard  uttered  a  certain  exclamation  of  disgust 
which  silenced  his  discreet  wife. 

Neither  of  them  had  quite  anticipated  the  result, 
namely,  that  the  next  morning,  Cis,  after  kissing  the 
Queen's  hand  as  usual,  remained  kneeling,  her  bosom 


144  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOKY.  [CHAP, 

heaving,  and  a  little  stammering  on  her  tongue,  while 
tears  rose  to  her  eyes. 

"  What  is  it,  miguonne,"  said  Mary,  kindly  ;  "  is  the 
whelp  dead  ?  or  is  the  clasp  broken  ? " 

"  No,  madam  ;  but — but  1  pray  you  give  me  no 
more  gifts.  My  father  says  it  touches  his  honour,  and 
I  have  promised  him — Oh,  madam,  be  not  displeased 
with  me,  but  let  me  give  you  back  your  last  beauteous 
gift." 

Mary  was  standing  by  the  fire.  She  took  the 
ivory  and  coral  trinket  from  the  hand  of  the  kneeling 
girl,  and  dashed  it  into  the  hottest  glow.  There  was 
passion  in  the  action,  and  in  the  kindling  eye,  but  it 
was  but  for  a  moment.  Before  Cis  could  speak  or 
Susan  begin  her  excuses,  the  delicate  baud  was  laid  on 
the  girl's  head,  and  a  calm  voice  said,  "  Fear  not,  child. 
Queens  take  not  back  their  gifts.  I  ought  to  have 
borne  in  mind  that  I  am  balked  of  the  pleasure  of 
giving — the  best  of  all  the  joys  they  have  robbed  me 
of.  But  tremble  not,  sweetheart,  I  am  not  chafed 
with  thee.  I  will  vex  thy  father  no  more.  Better 
thou  shouldst  go  without  a  trinket  or  two  than  deprive 
me  of  the  light  of  that  silly  little  face  of  thine,  so  long 
as  they  will  leave  me  that  sunbeam." 

She  stooped  and  kissed  the  drooping  brow,  aud 
Susan  coidd  not  but  feel  as  if  the  voice  of  nature  were 
indeed  speaking. 

A  few  words  of  apology  in  her  character  of  mother 
for  the  maiden's  abrupt  proceeding  were  met  by  the 
Queen  most  graciously.  "  Spare  thy  words,  good 
madam.  We  understand  and  reverence  Mr.  Talbot's 
point  of  honour.  Would  that  all  who  approached  us 
had  held  his  scruples  ! " 

Perliaps    Mary    was  after  this  more  distant  and 


XlJ.j  A  FURIOUS  LETTER.  145 

dignified  towards  tlie  matron,  but  especially  tendei 
and  caressing  towards  tlie  maiden,  as  if  to  make  up  by 
kindness  for  the  absence  of  little  gifts. 

Storms,  however,  were  brewing  without.  Lady 
Shrewsbury  made  open  complaints  of  her  husband 
having  become  one  of  Mary's  many  victims,  represent- 
ing herself  as  an  injured  wife  driven  out  of  her  house. 
She  actually  in  her  rage  carried  the  complaint  to 
Queen  Elizabeth,  who  sent  down  two  commissioners 
to  inquire  into  the  matter.  They  sat  in  the  castle 
hall,  and  examined  all  the  attendants,  including  Eichard 
and  his  wife.  The  investigation  was  extremely  painful 
and  distressing,  but  it  was  proved  that  nothing  could 
have  been  more  correct  and  guarded  than  the  whole 
intercourse  between  the  Earl  and  his  prisoner.  If  he 
had  erred,  it  had  been  on  the  side  of  caution  and 
severity,  though  he  had  always  preserved  the  courteous 
demeanour  of  a  gentleman,  and  had  been  rejoiced  to 
permit  whatever  indulgences  could  be  granted.  If 
there  had  been  any  transgressions  of  the  strict  rules, 
they  had  been  made  by  the  Countess  herself  and  her 
daughters  in  the  days  of  their  intimacy  with  the 
Queen  ;  and  the  aspersions  on  the  unfortunate  Earl 
were,  it  was  soon  evident,  merely  due  to  the  violent  and 
unscrupulous  tongues  of  the  Countess  and  her  daughter 
Alary.  No  wonder  that  Lord  Shrewsbury  wrote  letters 
i  .1  which  he  termed  the  lady  "  his  wicked  and  malicious 
wife,"  and  expressed  his  conviction  that  his  son  Gilbert's 
mind  had  been  perverted  by  her  daughter. 

The  indignation  of  the  captive  Queen  was  fully 
equal  to  his,  as  one  after  another  of  her  little  court 
returned  and  was  made  to  detail  the  points  on  Avhich 
he  or  she  had  been  interrogated.  Susan  found  her 
pacing  up  and  down  the  floor  like  a  caged  tigress,  her 

L 


146  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [OIIAP 

cap  and  veil  tlirown  back,  so  that  her  hair — far  whiter 
than  what  was  usually  displayed — was  hanging  di- 
shevelled, her  ruff  torn  open,  as  if  it  choked  back  the 
swelling  passion  in  her  throat. 

"  Never,  never  content  witli  persecuting  me,  they 
must  insult  me  !  Is  it  not  enough  that  I  am  stripped 
of  my  crown,  deprived  of  my  friends  ;  that  I  cannot 
take  a  step  beyond  this  chamber,  queen  as  I  am,  with- 
out my  warder  ?  Must  they  attaint  me  as  a  woman  ? 
Oh,  why,  why  did  the  doom  spare  me  that  took  my 
little  brothers  ?  Why  did  I  live  to  be  the  most 
wretched,  not  of  sovereigns  alone,  but  of  women  ? " 

"  Madam,"  entreated  Marie  de  Courcelles,  "  dearest 
madam,  take  courage.  All  these  horrible  charges 
refute  themselves." 

"  Ah,  Marie  !  you  have  said  so  ten  thousand  times, 
and  what  charge  has  ever  been  dropped?" 

"This  one  is  dropped!"  exclaimed  Susan,  coming 
forward.  "  Yes,  your  Grace,  indeed  it  is  !  The  Com- 
missioner himself  told  my  husband  that  no  one  believed 
it  for  a  moment." 

"Then  why  should  these  men  have  been  sent  but 
to  sting  and  gall  me,  and  make  me  feel  that  I  am  in 
their  power?"  cried  the  Queen. 

"  They  came,"  said  the  Secretary  Curll,  "  because 
thus  alone  could  the  Countess  be  silenced." 

"  The  Countess  !"  exclaimed  Mary.  "  So  my  cousin 
hath  listeued  to  her  tongue  !" 

"  Backed  by  her  daughter's,"  added  Jean  Kennedy. 

"  It  were  well  that  she  knew  wliat  those  two  dames 
can  say  of  her  Majesty  herself,  when  it  serves  them," 
added  Marie  de  Courcelles. 

"That  shall  she!"  exclaimed  Mary.  "She  shall 
have  it  from  mine  own  hand  1     Ha  !  ha  !     Elizabeth 


xil]  a  fueious  letter.  147 

sliall  know  the  choice  tales  wherewith  Mary  Talbot 
hath  regaled  us,  and  then  shall  she  judge  how  far  any- 
thing that  comes  from  my  young  lady  is  worth  heeding 
for  a  moment.  Eemember  you  all  the  tales  of  the 
nips  and  the  pinches  ?  Ay,  and  of  all  the  endear- 
ments to  Leicester  and  to  Hatton  ?  She  shall  have  it 
ill,  and  try  how  she  likes  the  dish  of  scandal  of  Mary 
Talbot's  cookery,  sauced  by  Bess  of  Hardwicke.  Here, 
nurse,  come  and  set  this  head-gear  of  mine  in  order, 
and  do  you,  my  good  Cnrll,  have  pen,  ink,  and  paper 
in  readiness  for  me." 

The  Queen  did  little  but  write  that  morning.  The 
next  day,  on  coming  out  from  morning  prayers,  which 
the  Protestants  of  her  suite  attended,  with  the  rest  of 
the  Shrewsbury  household,  Barbara  Mowbray  con- 
trived to  draw  Mrs.  Talbot  apart  as  they  went  towards 
the  lodge, 

"  Madam,"  she  said,  "  they  all  talk  of  your  power  to 
persuade.  Now  is  the  time  you  could  do  what  would 
be  no  small  service  to  this  poor  Queen,  ay,  and  it  may 
be  to  your  own  children." 

"  I  may  not  meddle  in  any  matters  of  the  Queen's," 
returned  Susan,  rather  stiffly. 

"  Nay,  but  hear  me,  madam.  It  is  only  to  hinder 
the  sending  of  a  letter." 

"  That  letter  which  her  Grace  was  about  to  write 
yesterday  ?" 

"  Even  so.  'Tis  no  secret,  for  she  read  fragments 
of  it  aloud,  and  all  her  women  applauded  it  with  all 
their  might,  and  laughed  over  the  stings  that  it  would 
give,  but  j\Ir.  Ciirll,  who  liad  to  copy  it,  saith  that  there 
is  a  bitterness  in  it  that  can  do  nothing  but  make  her 
Majesty  of  England  the  more  inllamed,  not  only 
against  my  Lady  Shrewsbuiy,  but  against  her  who  writ 


148  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY,  [CHAP, 

the  letter,  and  all  concerned.  Why,  she  hath  even 
brought  in  the  comedy  that  your  children  acted  in  the 
woodland,  and  that  was  afterwards  repeated  in  the 
hall !" 

"  You  say  not  so,  Mistress  Barbara  ?" 

"  Indeed  I  do.  Mr.  Curll  and  Sir  Andrew  Mel- 
ville are  both  of  them  sore  vexed,  and  would  fain 
liave  her  withdraw  it ;  but  Master  JSTau  and  all  the 
French  part  of  tlie  household  know  not  how  to  rejoice 
enough  at  such  an  exposure  of  my  Lady,  which  gives  a 
hard  fling  at  Queen  Elizabeth  at  the  same  time  !  Nay^ 
I  cannot  but  tell  you  that  there  are  things  in  it  that 
Dame  Mary  Talbot  might  indeed  say,  but  I  know 
not  how  Queen  Mary  could  bring  herself  to  sit 
down " 

Barbara  Mowbray  ventured  no  more,  and  Susan  felt 
hopeless  of  her  task,  since  how  was  she  by  any  means 
to  betray  knowledge  of  the  contents  of  the  letter  ?  Yet 
much  that  she  had  heard  made  her  feel  very  uneasy 
on  all  accounts.  She  had  too  much  strong  family 
regard  for  the  Countess  and  for  Gilbert  Talbot  and  his 
wife  to  hear  willingly  of  what  might  imperil  them, 
and  though  royal  indignation  would  probably  fly  over 
the  heads  of  the  children,  no  one  was  too  obscure  in 
those  Tudor  times  to  stand  in  danger  from  a  sovereign 
who  might  think  herself  insulted.  Yet  as  a  Hard- 
wicke,  and  the  wife  of  a  Talbot,  it  was  most  unlikely 
that  she  would  have  any  opening  for  remonstrance 
given  to  her. 

However,  it  was  possible  that  Curll  wished  to  give 
her  an  opening,  for  no  sooner  were  the  ladies  settled  at 
work  than  he  bowed  himself  forward  and  offered  his 
mistress  his  copy  of  the  letter. 

"Is  it  fair  engrossed,  good  Curll?'   asked  Mary. 


xil]  a  fukious  letter.  149 

"Thanks.  Then  will  we  keep  your  copy,  and  you 
shall  fold  and  prepare  our  own  for  our  sealing." 

"  Will  not  your  Majesty  hear  it  read  over  ere  it 
pass  out  of  your  hands  ?"  asked  Curll. 

"  Even  so,"  returned  Mary,  who  really  was  delighted 
with  the  pungency  of  her  own  composition.  "  Mayhap 
we  may  have  a  point  or  two  to  add." 

After  what  Mistress  Barbara  had  said,  Susan  was 
on  thorns  that  Cis  should  hear  the  letter;  but  that 
good  young  lady,  hating  the  expressions  therein  her- 
self, and  hating  it  still  more  for  the  girl,  bethought  her 
of  asking  permission  to  take  Mistress  Cicely  to  her 
own  cliamber,  there  to  assist  her  in  the  folding  of  some 
of  her  laces,  and  Mary  consented.  It  was  well,  for 
there  was  much  that  made  the  English-bred  Susan's 
cheeks  glow  and  her  ears  tingle. 

But,  at  least,  it  gave  her  a  great  opportunity. 
Wlien  the  letter  was  finished,  she  advanced  and  knelt 
on  the  step  of  the  canopied  chair,  saying,  "Madam, 
pardon  me,  if  in  the  name  of  my  unfortunate  children, 
I  entreat  you  not  to  accuse  them  to  the  Queen." 

"  Your  children,  lady  !  How  have  I  included  them 
in  what  I  have  told  her  Majesty  of  our  sweet 
Countess  ? " 

"  Your  Grace  will  remember  that  the  foremost  parts 
in  yonder  farce  were  allotted  to  my  son  Humfrey  and 
to  young  Master  Babington.  Nay,  that  the  whole 
arose  from  the  woodland  sport  of  little  Cis,  wliich  your 
Grace  was  pleased  to  admire." 

"  Sooth  enough,  my  good  gossip,  but  none  could 
suspect  the  poor  children  of  the  malice  my  Lady 
Countess  contrived  to  put  into  the  matter." 

"All,  madam !  these  are  times  when  it  is  convenient  to 
shift  the  blame  on  one  who  can  be  securely  punished." 


150  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

"  Certes,"  said  Mary,  thoughtfully,  "  the  Countess  is 
capable  of  making  her  escape  by  denouncing  some  one 
else,  especially  those  within  her  own  reach." 

"  Your  Grace,  wlio  can  speak  such  truth  of  my  poor 
Lady,"  said  Susan,  "  will  also  remember  that  though  my 
Lord  did  yield  to  the  persuasions  of  the  young  ladies, 
he  so  heedfully  caused  Master  Sniggius  to  omit  all 
j)erilous  matter,  that  no  one  not  informed  would  have 
guessed  at  the  import  of  the  piece,  as  it  was  played  in 
the  haU." 

"  Most  assuredly  not,"  said  Mary,  laughing  a  little 
at  the  recollection.  "  It  might  have  been  played  in 
Westminster  Hall  without  putting  my  gracious  coasin, 
ay,  or  Leicester  and  Hatton  themselves,  to  the  blush." 

"  Thus,  if  the  Queen  should  take  the  matter  up  and 
trace  it  home,  it  could  not  but  be  brought  to  my  poor 
innocent  children !  Humfrey  is  for  the  nonce  out  of 
reach,  but  the  maiden — I  wis  verily  that  your  High- 
ness would  be  loath  to  do  her  any  hurt !" 

"  Thou  art  a  good  pleader,  madam,"  said  the 
queen.  "  Verily  I  should  not  like  to  bring  the  bonnie 
lassie  into  trouble.  It  will  give  Master  Curll  a  little 
more  toil,  ay  and  myself  likewise,  for  the  matter  must 
stand  in  mine  own  hand  ;  but  we  will  leave  out  yonder 
unlucky  farce." 

"  Your  Highness  is  very  good,"  said  Susan  earnestly. 

"Yet  you  look  not  yet  content,  my  good  lady. 
What  more  would  you  have  of  me  ?" 

"  What  your  Majesty  will  scarce  grant,"  said  Susan. 

"  Ha  !  thou  art  of  the  same  house  thyself.  I  had 
forgotten  it ;  thou  art  so  unlike  to  them.  I  wager  that 
it  is  not  to  send  this  same  letter  at  all." 

"  Your  Highness  liath  guessed  my  mind.  Nay, 
madam,  though  assuredly  I  do  desire  it  because  the 


XII.]  A  FURIOUS  LETTER.  151 

Countess  hath  been  ever  my  good  ladj,  and  bred  me 
up  ever  since  I  was  an  orphan,  it  is  not  solely  for  her 
sake  that  I  would  fain  pray  you,  but  fully  as  much  for 
your  Majesty's  own." 

"Madame  Talbot  sees  the  matter  as  I  do,"  said  Sir 
Andrew  Melville.  "  The  English  Queen  is  as  like  to 
be  irate  with  the  reporter  of  the  scandal  as  with  the 
author  of  it,  even  as  the  wolf  bites  the  barb  that  pierces 
him  when  he  cannot  reach  the  archer." 

"  She  is  welcome  to  read  the  letter,"  said  Mary, 
smiling ;  "  thy  semblance  falleth  short,  my  good  friend." 

"  Nay,  madam,  that  was  not  the  whole  of  my  pur- 
port," said  Susan,  standing  with  folded  hands,  looking 
from  one  to  another.  "  Pardon  me.  My  thought  was 
that  to  take  ]3ait  in  all  this  repeating  of  thoughtless, 
idle  words,  spoken  foolishly  indeed,  but  scarce  so  much 
in  malice  as  to  amuse  your  Grace  with  Court  news, 
and  treasured  up  so  long,  your  Majesty  descends  from 
being  the  patient  and  suffering  princess,  meek,  generous, 
and  uncomplaining,  to  be— to  be " 

"No  better  than  one  of  them,  wouldst  thou  add  ?" 
asked  Mary,  somewhat  sharply,  as  Susan  paused. 

"  Your  Highness  has  said  it,"  answered  Susan ; 
then,  as  there  was  a  moment's  pause,  she  looked  up, 
and  with  clasped  hands  added,  "  Oh,  madam  !  would 
it  not  be  more  worthy,  more  noble,  more  queenly,  more 
Christian,  to  refrain  from  stinging  with  this  repetition 
of  these  vain  and  foolish  slanders?" 

"  Most  Christian  treatment  have  I  met  with,"  re- 
turned Mary ;  but  after  a  pause  she  turned  to  her 
almoner.  Master  Belton,  saying,  "  Wliat  say  you,  sir  ? " 

"  I  say  that  Mrs.  Talbot  speaks  more  Christian 
words  than  are  often  heard  in  these  parts,"  returned 
he.      "  The   thankworthincss    of   suffering   is   lost   by 


152  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

t-hose  who  return  tlie  revilings  upon  those  who  uttei 
them." 

"  Then  "be  it  so,"  returned  the  Queen.  "  Elizabeth 
shall  be  spared  the  knowledge  that  some  ladies'  tongues 
can  be  as  busy  with  her  as  with  her  poor  cousin." 

With  her  own  hands  Mary  tore  up  her  own  letter, 
but  Curll's  copy  unfortunately  escaped  destruction,  to 
lie  discovered  in  after  times.  liOrd  and  Lady  Shrews- 
bury never  knew  the  service  Susan  had  render3d  them 
by  causmg  it  to  be  suppressed. 


xiil]  beads  akd  bracelets.  153 


CHAPTEE  XIIL 

BEADS   AND   BRACELETS. 

The  Countess  was  by  no  means  pacified  by  the  inves- 
tigation, and  botli  she  and  lier  family  remained  at 
Court,  maligning  her  husband  and  his  captive.  As 
the  season  advanced,  bringing  the  time  for  the  Queen's 
annual  resort  to  the  waters  of  Buxton,  Lord  Shrews- 
bury was  obliged  to  entreat  Mrs.  Talbot  again  to  be 
her  companion,  declaring  that  he  had  never  known  so 
much  peace  as  with  that  lady  in  the  Queen's  chambers. 

The  journey  to  Buxton  was  always  the  great  holi- 
day of  the  imprisoned  Court.  The  place  was  part  of 
the  Shrewsbury  property,  and  the  Earl  had  a  great 
house  there,  but  there  were  no  conveniences  for  exer- 
cising so  strict  a  watch  as  at  Sheffield,  and  there  was 
altogether  a  relaxation  of  disciplme.  Exercise  was 
considered  an  essential  part  of  the  treatment,  and 
recreations  were  there  provided. 

Cis  had  heard  so  much  of  the  charms  of  the  ex- 
pedition, that  she  was  enraptured  to  hear  that  she  was 
to  share  it,  together  with  Mrs.  Talbot.  The  only 
drawback  was  that  Humfrey  had  promised  to  come 
home  after  this  present  voyage,  to  see  whether  his 
little  Cis  were  ready  for  him ;  and  his  father  was  much 
disposed  to   remain   at  home,  receive   him   first,  and 


154  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOEY.  [CHAP. 

communirate  to  liim  the  obstacles  in  the  way  of 
wedding  the  young  lady.  However,  my  Lord  refused 
to  dispense  with  the  attendance  of  his  most  trust- 
worthy kinsman,  and  leaving  Ned  at  school  under 
charge  of  the  learned  Sniggius,  the  elder  and  the 
younger  Eichard  Talbot  rode  forth  with  the  retinue 
of  the  Queen  and  her  warder. 

Neither  Cicely  nor  Diccon  had  ever  left  home  be- 
fore, and  they  were  in  raptures  which  would  have 
made  any  journey  delightful  to  them,  far  more  a  ride 
through  some  of  the  wildest  and  loveliest  glades  that 
England  can  display.  Nay,  it  may  be  that  they 
would  better  have  enjoyed  something  less  like  Shef- 
field Park  than  the  rocks,  glens,  and  woods,  through 
which  they  rode.  Their  real  delight  was  in  the  towns 
and  villages  at  which  there  was  a  halt,  and  every 
traveller  they  saw  was  such  a  wonder  to  them,  that  at 
the  end  of  the  first  day  they  were  almost  as  full  of 
exultation  in  their  experiences,  as  if,  with  Humfrey, 
they  had  been  far  on  the  way  to  America. 

The  delight  of  sleeping  at  Tideswell  was  in  their 
eyes  extreme,  though  the  hostel  was  so  crowded  tliat 
Cis  had  to  share  a  mattress  with  Mrs.  Talbot,  and 
Diccon  had  to  sleep  in  his  cloak  on  the  floor,  which  he 
persuaded  himself  was  high  preferment.  He  woke, 
however,  much  sooner  than  was  his  wont,  and  finding 
it  useless  to  try  to  fall  asleep  again,  he  made  his  way 
out  among  the  sleeping  figures  on  the  floor  and  hall, 
and  finding  the  fountain  in  the  midst  of  the  court, 
produced  his  soap  and  comb  from  his  pocket,  and 
made  his  morning  toilet  in  the  open  air  with  consider- 
able satisfaction  at  his  own  alertness.  Presently  there 
was  a  tap  at  the  window  above,  and  he  saw  Cicely 
making  sL^nals  to  him  to  wait  for  her,  and  in  a  few 


XIII.]  BEADS  A.is^D  BRACELETS.  155 

minutes  she  skipped  out  from  the  door  into  the  sun- 
light of  the  early  summer  morning. 

"  No  one  is  awake  yet,"  she  said.  "  Even  the  guard 
before  the  Queen's  door  is  fast  asleep.  I  only  heard 
a  wench  or  two  stirring.  We  can  have  a  run  in  the 
fields  and  gather  May  dew  before  any  one  is  afoot." 

"  'Tis  not  May,  'tis  June,"  said  matter-of-fact 
Diccon.  "  But  yonder  is  a  guard  at  the  yard  gate ; 
will  he  let  us  past  ?" 

"  See,  here's  a  little  wicket  into  a  garden  of  pot- 
herbs," said  Cis.  "  No  doubt  we  can  get  out  that 
way,  and  it  will  bring  us  the  sooner  into  the  fields. 
I  liave  a  cake  in  mf  wallet  that  mother  gave  me  for 
the  journey,  so  we  shall  not  fast.  How  sweet  the 
herbs  smell  in  the  dew — and  see  how  silvery  it  lies 
on  the  strawberry  leaves.  Ah !  thou  naughty  lad, 
think  not  whether  the  fruit  be  ripe.  Mayhap  we  shall 
find  some  wild  ones  beyond." 

The  gate  of  the  garden  was  likewise  guarded,  but 
by  a  yeoman  who  well  knew  the  young  Talbots,  and 
made  no  difficulty  about  letting  them  out  into  the 
broken  ground  beyond  the  garden,  sloping  up  into  a 
little  hill.  Up  bounded  the  boy  and  girl,  like  young 
mountaineers,  through  gorse  and  fern,  and  presently 
had  gained  a  sufficient  height  to  look  over  the  country, 
marking  the  valleys  whence  still  were  rising  "  fragrant 
clouds  of  dewy  steam  "  under  the  influence  of  the  sun- 
beams, gazing  up  at  the  purple  heights  of  the  Peak, 
where  a  few  lines  of  snow  still  lingered  in  the  crevices, 
trying  to  track  their  past  journey  from  their  own 
Sheffield,  and  with  still  more  interest  to  guess  which 
wooded  valley  before  them  contained  Buxton. 

"  Have  you  lost  your  way,  my  pretty  mistress  ?" 
said  a  voice  close  to  them,  and   turning  round  hastily 


15G  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CIIAP. 

they  saw  a  peasant  woman  with  a  large  basket  on  hei 
arm. 

"  No,"  said  Cicely  courteously,  "  we  have  only  come 
out  to  take  the  air  before  breakfast." 

"  I  crave  pardon,"  said  the  woman,  curtseying,  "the 
pretty  lady  belongs  to  the  great  folk  down  yonder. 
Would  she  look  at  my  poor  wares  ?  Here  are  beads 
and  trinkets  of  the  goodly  stones,  pins  and  collars, 
bracelets  and  eardrops,  white,  yellow,  and  purple,"  she 
said,  uncovering  her  basket,  where  were  arranged 
various  ornaments  made  of  Derbyshire  spar. 

"  We  have  no  money,  good  woman,"  said  Cicely, 
rising  to  return,  vaguely  uncomfortable  at  the  woman's 
eye,  which  awoke  some  remembrance  of  Tibbott  the 
huckster,  and  the  troubles  connected  with  her. 

"  Yea,  but  if  my  young  mistress  would  only  bring 
me  in  to  the  Great  Lady  there,  I  know  she  would 
buy  of  me  my  beads  and  bracelets,  or  give  me  an  alms 
for  my  poor  children.  I  have  five  of  them,  good 
young  lady,  and  they  lie  naked  and  hungry  till  I  can 
sell  my  few  poor  wares,  and  the  yeomen  are  so  rough 
and  hard.  They  would  break  and  trample  every  poor 
bead  I  have  in  pieces  rather  than  even  let  my  Lord 
hear  of  them.  But  if  even  my  basket  could  be  carried 
in  and  shown,  and  if  the  good  Earl  heard  my  sad 
tale,  I  am  sure  he  would  give  license." 

"  He  never  does  ! "  said  Diccon,  roughly  ;  "  hold  off, 
woman,  do  not  hang  on  us,  or  I'll  get  thee  branded  for 
a  vagabond." 

The  woman  put  her  knuckles  into  her  eyes,  and 
wailed  out  that  it  was  all  for  her  poor  children,  and 
Cicely  reproved  him  for  his  roughness,  and  as  the 
woman  kept  close  behind  them,  wailing,  moaning,  and 
persuading,  the  boy  and    girl  were  v/rought  upon  at 


XIII.]  BEADS  AND  BEACELETS.  157 

last  to  give  her  leave  to  wait  outside  the  gate  of  the 
inn  garden,  while  they  saw  whether  it  was  possible  to 
admit  her  or  her  basket. 

But  before  they  reached  the  gate,  they  saw  a  figure 
beyond  it,  scanning  the  hill  eagerly.  They  knew 
him  for  their  father  even  before  he  shouted  to  them, 
and,  as  they  approached,  his  voice  was  displeased : 
"  How  now,  children  ;  what  manners  are  these  ? " 

"  We  have  only  been  on  the  hillside,  sweet  father," 
said  Cis,  "  Diccon  and  I  together.    We  thought  no  harm." 

"  This  is  not  Slieffield  Chace,  Cis,  and  thou  art 
no  more  a  child,  but  a  maiden  who  needs  to  be  dis- 
creet, above  all  in  these  times.  Whom  did  I  see 
following  you  ? " 

"  A  poor  woman,  whom  —  Ha,  where  is  she  ?  " 
exclaimed  Cis,  suddenly  perceiving  that  the  woman 
seemed  to  have  vanished. 

"  A  troublesome  begging  woman  who  beset  us  with 
her  wares,"  said  Diccon,  "  and  would  give  us  no  peace, 
praying  that  we  would  get  them  carried  in  to  the  Queen 
and  her  ladies,  whining  about  lier  children  till  she  made 
Cis  soft-hearted.      Where  can  she  have  hidden  herself  ? " 

The  man  who  was  stationed  as  sentry  at  the  gate 
said  he  had  seen  the  woman  come  over  the  brow  of 
the  hill  with  Master  Diccon  and  Mistress  Cicely,  but 
that  as  they  ran  forward  to  meet  Captain  Talbot  she 
had  disappeared  amid  the  rocks  and  brushwood. 

"  Poor  woman,  she  was  afraid  of  our  father,"  said 
Cicely ;  "  I  would  we  could  see  her  again." 

"  So  would  not  I,"  said  Eichard.  "  It  looks  not  well, 
and  heed  me  well,  children,  there  must  be  no  more  of 
these  pranks,  nor  of  wandering  out  of  bounds,  or 
babbling  with  strangers.  Go  thou  in  to  thy  mother, 
Cis,  she  hath  been  in  much  trouble  for  thee." 


158  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAR 

Mistress  Susan  was  unusually  severe  with  the  girl 
on  the  indiscretion  of  gadding  in  strange  places  with 
no  better  escort  than  Diccon,  and  of  entering  into  con- 
versation with  unknown  persons.  Moreover,  Cicely's 
hair,  her  shoes,  and  camlet  riding  skirt  were  all  so 
dank  with  dew  that  she  was  with  difficulty  made  pre- 
sentable by  the  time  the  horses  were  brought  round. 
The  Queen,  who  had  not  seen  the  girl  that  morning, 
made  her  come  and  ride  near  her,  asking  questions  on 
the  escapade,  and  giving  one  of  her  bewitching  pathetic 
smiles  as  she  said  how  she  envied  the  power  of  thus 
dancing  out  on  the  greensward,  and  breathing  the  free 
and  fresh  morning  air.  "  My  Scottish  blood  loves  the 
mountains,  and  bounds  the  more  freely  in  the  fresh 
breeze,"  she  said,  gazing  towards  the  Peak.  "  I  love 
the  scent  of  the  dew.  Didst  get  into  trouble,  child  ? 
Methought  I  heard  sounds  of  chiding  ? " 

"  It  was  no  fault  of  mine,"  said  Cis,  inclined  to 
complain  when  she  found  sympathy,  "  the  woman 
would  speak  to  us." 

"  What  woman  ?  "  asked  the  Queen. 

"A  poor  woman  with  a  basket  of  wares,  who 
prayed  hard  to  be  allowed  to  show  them  to  your 
Grace  or  some  of  the  ladies.  She  said  she  had  five 
sorely  hungered  children,  and  that  she  heard  your 
Grace  was  a  compassionate  lady." 

"  Woe  is  me,  compassion  is  full  all  that  I  am 
permitted  to  give,"  said  the  Queen,  sadly;  "  she  brought 
trinkets  to  sell.      What  were  her  wares,  saidst  thou  ? " 

"  I  had  no  time  to  see  many,"  said  Cis,  "  something 
pure  and  wlnte  like  a  new-laid  e^g,  I  saw,  and  a 
necklet,  clouded  with  beauteous  purple." 

"  Ay,  beads  and  bracelets,  no  doubt,"  said  tho 
cjueen. 


XIII.]  BEADS  AND  BKACELETS.  159 

"  Yes,  beads  and  bracelets,"  returned  Cicely,  tlie 
soft  chime  of  the  Queen's  Scottish  accent  bringing 
back  to  her  that  the  woman  had  twice  pressed  on  her 
beads  and  bracelets. 

"  She  dwelt  on  them,"  said  the  Queen  lightly. 
"  Ay,  I  know  the  chant  of  the  poor  folk  who  ever 
hover  about  our  outskirts  in  hopes  to  sell  their  country 
gewgaws,  beads  and  bracelets,  collars  and  pins,  little 
guessing  that  she  whom  they  seek  is  poorer  than  them- 
selves. Mayhap,  our  Argus-eyed  lord  may  yet  let  the 
poor  dame  within  his  fence,  and  we  may  be  able  to 
gratify  thy  longing  for  those  same  purple  and  white 
beads  and  bracelets." 

Meantime  the  party  were  riding  on,  intending  to 
dine  at  Buxton,  which  meant  to  reach  it  by  noonday. 
The  tall  roof  of  the  great  hall  erected  by  the  Earl 
over  the  baths  was  already  coming  in  sight,  and  by 
and  by  they  would  look  into  the  valley.  The  Wye, 
after  coming  down  one  of  those  lovely  deep  ravines  to 
be  found  in  all  mountainous  countries,  here  flowed 
through  a  more  open  space,  part  of  which  had  been 
artificially  levelled,  but  which  was  covered  with 
buildings,  rising  out  amongst  the  rocks  and  trees. 

Most  conspicuous  among  them  was  a  large  freshly- 
built  erection  in  Tudor  architecture,  with  a  wide 
portal  arch,  and  five  separate  gables  starting  from  one 
central  building,  which  bore  a  large  clock-tower,  and 
was  decorated  at  every  corner  with  the  Talbots'  stout 
and  sturdy  form.  This  was  the  great  hall,  built  by  the 
present  Earl  George,  and  containing  five  baths,  intended 
to  serve  separately  for  each  sex,  gentle  and  simple,  with 
one  special  bath  reserved  for  the  sole  use  of  the  more 
distinguished  visitors.  Besides  this,  at  no  great  distance, 
was  the  Earl's  own  mansion,  "  a  very  goodly  house,  four 


160  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHiiP. 

square,  four  stories  high,"  with  stables,  offices,  and  all 
the  requisites  of  a  nobleman's  establishment,  and  this 
was  to  be  the  lodging  of  the  Scottish  Queen. 

Farther  off  was  another  house,  which  had  been 
built  by  permission  of  the  Earl,  under  the  auspices  of 
Dr.  Joues,  probably  one  of  the  first  of  the  long  series 
of  physicians  who  have  made  it  their  business  to 
enhance  the  fame  of  the  watering-places  where  they 
have  set  up  their  staff.  This  was  the  great  hostel  or 
lodging-house  for  the  patients  of  condition  who  re- 
sorted to  the  healing  springs,  and  nestled  here  and 
there  among  the  rocks  were  cottages  which  accom- 
modated, after  a  fashion,  the  poorer  sort,  who  might 
drag  themselves  to  the  spot  in  the  hope  of  washing 
away  their  rheumatic  pains  and  other  infirmities.  In 
a  distant  and  magnificent  way,  like  some  of  the  lesser 
German  potentates,  the  mighty  Lord  of  Shrewsbury 
took  toll  from  the  visitors  to  his  baths,  and  this  con- 
tributed to  repair  the  ravages  to  his  fortune  caused  by 
the  maintenance  of  his  royal  captive. 

Arriving  just  at  noontide,  the  Queen  and  her  escort 
beheld  a  motley  crowd  dispersed  about  the  sward  on 
the  banks  of  the  river,  some  playing  at  ball,  others 
resting  on  benches  or  walking  up  and  down  in  groups, 
exercise  being  recommended  as  part  of  the  cure.  All 
thronged  together  to  watch  the  Earl  and  his  captive 
ride  in  with  their  suite,  the  household  turning  out  to 
meet  them,  while  foremost  stood  a  dapper  little  figure 
with  a  short  black  cloak,  a  stiff  round  ruff,  and  a 
square  barrett  cap,  with  a  gold-headed  cane  in  one 
hand  and  a  paper  in  the  other. 

"Prepare  thy  patience,  Cis,"  whispered  Barbara 
Mowbray,  "  now  shall  we  not  be  allowed  to  alight 
from  our  palfreys  till  we  have  heard  his  full  welcome 


Xiri.]  BEADS  AND  BRACELETS.  161 

to  my  Lord,  and  all  his  plans  for  this  place,  how  it  is 
to  be  made  a  sanctuary  for  the  sick  during  their  abode 
there,  for  all  causes  saving  sacrilege,  treason,  murder, 
burglary,  and  highway  robbery,  with  a  license  to  eat 
flesh  on  a  Friday,  as  long  as  they  are  drinking  the 
waters!" 

It  was  as  Mistress  Mowbray  said.  Dr.  Jones's 
harangue  on  the  progress  of  Buxton  and  its  prospects 
had  always  to  be  endured  before  any  one  was  allowed 
to  dismount ;  but  royalty  and  nobility  were  inured  to 
listening  with  a  good  grace,  and  Mary,  though  wearied 
and  aching,  sat  patiently  in  the  hot  sunshine,  and  was 
ready  to  declare  that  Buxton  put  her  in  good  humour. 
In  fact  the  grandees  and  their  immediate  attendants 
endured  with  all  the  grace  of  good  breeding ;  but  the 
farther  from  tlie  scene  of  action,  the  less  was  the 
patience,  and  the  more  restless  and  confused  the 
movements  of  the  retinue. 

Diccon  Talbot,  hungry  and  eager,  had  let  his 
equally  restless  pony  convey  him,  he  scarce  knew 
where,  from  his  father's  side,  when  he  saw,  making  her 
way  among  the  horses,  the  very  woman  with  the  basket 
whom  he  had  encountered  at  Tideswell  in  the  early 
morning.  How  could  she  have  gone  such  a  distance 
in  tlie  time?  thought  the  boy,  and  he  presently  caught 
the  words  addressed  to  one  of  the  grooms  of  the  Scot- 
tish Queen's  suite.  "  Let  me  show  my  poor  leads  and 
bracelets."  The  Scotsman  instantly  made  way  for  her, 
and  she  advanced  to  a  wizened  thin  old  Frenchman, 
Maitre  Gorion,  the  Queen's  surgeon,  who  jumped  down 
from  his  horse,  and  was  soon  bending  over  her  basket 
exchanging  whispers  in  the  lowest  possible  tones ;  but 
a  surge  among  those  iu  the  rear  drove  Dic(ion  up  so 
near  that  he  was   absolutely  certain  that  they  were 

M 


162  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP, 

speaking  French,  as  indeed  he  well  knew  that  M. 
Gorion  never  could  succeed  in  making  himself  under- 
stood in  Enghsh. 

The  boy,  bred  up  in  the  perpetual  caution  and 
suspicion  of  Sheffield,  was  eager  to  denounce  one  who 
he  was  sure  was  a  conspirator ;  but  he  was  hemmed  in 
among  horses  and  men,  so  that  he  could  not  make  his 
way  out  or  see  what  was  passing,  till  suddenly  there 
was  a  scattering  to  the  right  and  left,  and  a  simulta- 
neous shriek  from  the  ladies  in  front. 

When  Diccon  could  see  anything,  his  father  was 
pressing  forward  to  a  group  round  some  one  prostrate 
on  the  ground  before  the  house,  and  there  were  ex- 
clamations, "  The  poor  young  lady  !  The  chirurgeon  ! 
To  the  front,  the  Queen  is  asking  for  you,  sir,"  and 
Cicely's  horse  with  loose  bridle  passed  before  his  eyes. 

"Let  me  through  !  let  me  through !"  cried  the  boy; 
"  it  is  my  sister." 

He  threw  his  bridle  to  a  groom,  and,  squeezing 
between  horses  and  under  elbows,  succeeded  in  seeing 
Cis  lying  on  the  ground  with  her  eyes  shut  and  her 
head  in  his  mother's  lap,  and  the  French  surgeon 
bending  over  her.  She  gave  a  cry  when  he  touched  her 
arm,  and  he  said  something  in  his  mixture  of  French 
and  English,  which  Diccon  could  not  hear.  The 
Queen  stood  close  by,  a  good  deal  agitated,  anxiously 
asking  questions,  and  throwing  out  her  hands  in  her 
French  fashion.  Diccon,  much  frightened,  struggled 
on,  but  only  reached  the  party  just  as  his  father  had 
gathered  Cicely  up  in  his  arms  to  carry  her  upstairs. 
Diccon  followed  as  closely  as  he  could,  but  blindly  in 
the  crowd  in  the  strange  house,  until  he  found  him- 
self in  a  long  gallery,  shut  out,  among  various  others 
of  both  sexes.    "  Come,  my  masters  and  mistresses  all," 


XIII.]  BEADS  AND  BRACELETS.  163 

said  the  voice  of  the  seneschal,  "  you  had  best  to  your 
chambers,  there  is  naught  for  you  to  do  here." 

However,  he  allowed  Diccon  to  remain  leaning 
against  the  balustrade  of  the  stairs  which  led  up  out- 
side the  house,  and  in  another  minute  his  fatlier  came 
out.  "  Ha,  Diccon,  that  is  well,"  said  he.  "  No,  thou 
canst  not  enter.  They  are  about  to  undress  poor  little 
Cis.  Nay,  it  seemed  not  to  me  that  slie  was  more 
hurt  than  thy  mother  could  well  have  dealt  with,  but 
the  French  surgeon  would  thrust  in,  and  the  Queen 
would  have  it  so.  We  will  walk  here  in  the  court  till 
we  hear  what  he  saith  of  her.  How  befell  it,  dost 
thou  ask  ?  Truly  I  can  hardly  tell,  but  I  believe  one 
of  the  Frenchmen's  horses  got  restless,  either  with  a 
fly  or  with  standing  so  long  to  hear  yonder  leech's 
discourse.  He  must  needs  cut  the  beast  with  his  rod, 
and  so  managed  to  hit  White  Posy,  who  starts  aside, 
and  Cis,  sitting  unheedfully  on  that  new-fangled  French 
saddle,  was  thrown  in  an  instant." 

"  I  shall  laugh  at  her  well  for  letting  herself  be 
thrown  by  a  Frenchman  with  his  switch,"  said 
Diccon. 

"  I  hope  the  damage  hath  not  been  great,"  said  his 
father,  anxiously  looking  up  the  stair.  "Where  wast 
thou,  Dick  ?     I  had  lost  sight  of  thee." 

"I  was  seeking  you,  sir,  for  I  had  seen  a  strange 
sight,"  said  Dick.  "  That  woman  who  spoke  with  us 
at  Tideswell  was  here  again  ;  yea,  and  she  talked  with 
the  little  old  Frenchman  tliat  they  call  Gorion,  the 
same  that  is  with  Cis  now." 

"She  did!  Folly,  boy!  The  fellow  can  hardly 
comprehend  five  words  of  plain  English  together,  long 
as  he  hath  been  here  !  One  of  the  Queen's  women  is 
gone  in  even  now  to  interpret  for  him." 


164  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP 

"  That  do  I  wot,  sir.  Therefore  did  I  marvel,  and 
sought  to  tell  you." 

"What  like  was  the  woman?"  demanded  Richard. 

Diccon's  description  was  lame,  and  his  father  bade 
him  hasten  out  of  the  court,  and  fetch  the  woman  if  he 
could  find  her  displaying  her  trinkets  to  the  water- 
drinkers,  instructing  him  not  to  alarm  her  by  per- 
emptory commands,  but  to  give  her  hopes  of  a  purchaser 
for  her  spars.  Proud  of  tlie  commission  entrusted  to 
him,  the  boy  sallied  forth,  but  though  he  wandered 
through  all  the  groups  on  the  sward,  and  encountered 
two  tumblers  and  one  puppet  show,  besides  a  bear  and 
monkey,  he  utterly  failed  in  finding  the  vendor  of  the 
beads  and  bracelets. 


XIV.]  THE  MONOGKAMS.  16  i 


CHAPTEE   XIV. 

THE  MONOGKAMS 

When  Cicely  had  been  carried  into  a  chamber 
by  Master  Talbot,  and  laid  half  -  conscious  and 
nloaning  on  the  grand  carved  bed,  Mrs.  Talbot  by 
word  and  gesture  expelled  all  superfluous  spectators. 
She  would  have  preferred  examming  alone  into  the 
injury  sustained  by  the  maiden,  which  she  did  not 
think  beyond  her  own  management ;  but  there  was  no 
refusing  the  services  of  Maitre  Gorion,  or  of  Mrs. 
Kennedy,  who  indeed  treated  her  authoritatively, 
assuming  the  direction  of  the  sick-room.  She  found 
herself  acting  under  their  orders  as  she  undid  the 
boddice,  while  Mrs.  Kennedy  ripped  up  the  tight 
sleeve  of  the  riding  dress,  and  laid  bare  the  arm  and 
shoulder,  which  had  been  severely  bruised  and  twisted, 
but  neither  broken  nor  dislocated,  as  Mrs.  Kennedy 
informed  her,  after  a  few  rapid  words  from  the  French- 
man, unintelligible  to  the  English  lady,  who  felt  some- 
what impatient  of  this  invasion  of  her  privileges,  and 
was  ready  to  say  she  had  never  supposed  any  such 
thing. 

The  chirurgeon  skipped  to  the  door,  and  for  a 
moment  she  hoped  that  she  was  rid  of  him,  but  he  had 
only  gone  to  bring  in   a  neat  case   with   which  hia 


106  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOKY.  [CHAP. 

groom  was  in  waiting  outside,  whence  he  extracted  a 
lotion  and  sponge,  speaking  rapidly  as  he  did  so. 

"  Now,  madam,"  said  Jean  Kennedy,  "  lift  the 
lassie,  there,  turn  back  her  boddice,  and  we  will  bathe 
her  shouther.      So  !     By  my  halidome  !" 

"  Ah  !  Mort  de  ma  vie  !" 

The  two  exclamations  darted  simultaneously  from 
the  lips  of  the  Scottish  nurse  and  the  French  doctor. 
Susan  beheld  what  she  had  at  the  moment  forgotten, 
the  curious  mark  branded  on  her  nursling's  shoulder, 
which  indeed  she  had  not  seen  since  Cicely  had  been 
of  an  age  to  have  the  care  of  her  own  person,  and 
which  was  out  of  the  girl's  own  sight.  No  more 
was  said  at  the  moment,  for  Cis  was  reviving  fast, 
and  was  so  much  bewildered  and  frightened  that  she 
required  all  the  attention  and  soothing  that  the  two 
women  could  give,  but  when  they  removed  the  rest  of 
her  clothing,  so  that  she  might  be  laid  down  comfort- 
ably to  rest,  Mrs.  Kennedy  by  another  dexterous  move- 
ment uncovered  enough  of  the  other  shoulder  to  obtain 
a  glimpse  of  the  monogram  upon  it. 

Nothing  was  spoken.  Those  two  had  not  been  so 
many  years  attendants  on  a  suspected  and  imprisoned 
queen  without  being  prudent  and  cautious ;  but  when 
they  quitted  the  apartment  after  administering  a  febri- 
fuge, Susan  felt  a  pang  of  wonder,  whether  they  were 
about  to  communicate  their  discovery  to  their  mistress. 
For  the  next  quarter  of  an  hour,  the  patient  needed  all 
her  attention,  and  there  was  no  possibility  of  obeying  the 
summons  of  a  great  clanging  bell  which  announced  dinner. 
When,  however,  Cis  had  fallen  asleep  it  became  possible 
to  think  over  the  situation.  She  foresaw  an  inquiry, 
and  would  have  given  much  for  a  few  words  with  her 
husband ;  but  retlection  showed  her  that  the  one  point 


XIV. J  THE  MONOGltAMS,  167 

essential  to  his  safety  was  not  to  betray  that  he  and 
she  had  any  previous  knowledge  of  the  rank  of  theii 
nursling.  The  existence  of  the  scroll  might  have  to 
be  acknowledged,  but  to  show  that  Eichard  had  de- 
ciphered it  would  put  him  in  danger  on  all  hands. 

She  had  just  made  up  her  mind  on  this  point  when 
there  was  a  knock  at  the  door,  and  Mrs.  Kenuedy  bore 
in  a  salver  with  a  cup  of  wine,  and  took  from  an 
attendant,  who  remained  outside,  a  tray  with  some 
more  solid  food,  which  she  placed  on  the  broad  edge 
of  the  deep-set  window,  and  coming  to  the  bedside, 
invited  Mrs.  Talbot  to  eat,  while  she  watched  the  girl. 
Susan  complied,  though  with  little  appetite,  and  Mrs. 
Kennedy,  after  standing  for  a  few  minutes  in  contem- 
plation, came  to  the  window.  She  was  a  tall  woman, 
her  yellow  hair  softened  by  an  admixture  of  gray,  her 
eyes  keen  and  shrewd,  yet  capable  of  great  tenderness 
at  times,  her  features  certainly  not  youthful,  but  not 
a  whit  more  aged  than  they  had  been  when  Susan  had 
first  seen  her  fourteen  years  ago.  It  was  a  quiet  mouth, 
and  one  that  gave  a  sense  of  trust  both  in  its  firmness, 
secrecy,  and  kindness. 

"Madam,"  said  she,  in  her  soft  Scotch  voice, 
lowered  considerably,  but  not  whispering,  and  with 
her  keen  eyes  fixed  on  Susan — "  Madam,  what  garred 
ye  gie  your  bit  lassie  yonder  marks  ?  Ye  need  not 
fear,  that  draught  of  Maister  Gorion's  will  keep  her 
sleeping  fast  for  a  good  hour  or  two  longer,  and  it 
behoves  me  to  ken  how  she  cam  by  yonder  brands." 

"  She  had  them  when  she  came  to  us,"  said  Susan. 

"  Ye'll  no  persuade  me  that  they  are  birth  marks," 
returned  Mistress  Jean.  "  Such  a  thing  would  be  a 
miracle  in  a  loyal  Scottish  Catholic's  wean,  let  alone  an 
English  heretic's." 


168  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

"  !N"o,"  said  Susan,  who  had  iu  fact  only  made  the 
answer  to  give  herself  time  to  thiuk  whether  it  were 
possible  to  summon  her  husband.  "They  never  seemed 
to  me  birth  marks." 

"  Woman,"  said  Jean  Kennedy,  laying  a  strong, 
though  soft  hand,  on  her  wrist,  "  this  is  not  gear  for 
trifling.  Is  the  lass  your  ain  bairn  ?  Ha  !  I  always 
thought  she  had  mair  of  the  kindly  Scot  than  of  the 
Southron  about  her.  Hech  !  so  they  made  the  puir 
wean  captive  !  Wha  gave  her  till  you  to  keep  ?  Your 
lord,  I  trow." 

"  The  Lord  of  heaven  and  earth,"  replied  Susan. 
"My  husband  took  her,  the  only  Living  thing  left  on  a 
wreck  off  the  Spurn  Head." 

"  Hech,  sirs !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Kennedy,  evidently 
much  struck,  but  stdl  exercising  great  self-command. 
"And  when  fell  this  out  ?" 

"  Two  days  after  Low  Sunday,  in  the  year  of  grace 
-1568,"  returned  Susan. 

"  My  halidome  !"  again  ejaculated  Jean,  in  a  low 
voice,  crossing  herself.  "  And  what  became  of  honest 
Ailie — I  mean,"  catching  herself  up,  "  what  befell  those 
that  went  with  her  ? " 

"  Not  one  lived,"  said  Susan,  gravely.  "  The  mate 
of  my  husband's  ship  took  the  little  one  from  the  arms 
of  her  nurse,  who  seemed  to  have  been  left  aloue  with 
her  by  the  crew,  lashed  to  the  wreck,  and  to  have  had 
her  life  freshly  beaten  out  by  the  winds  and  waves,  for 
she  was  still  warm.  I  was  then  lying  at  Hull,  and 
they  brought  the  babe  to  me,  while  there  was  still  time 
to  save  her  life,  with  God's  blessing." 

"And  the  vessel  ?"  asked  Jean. 

"  My  husband  held  it  to  be  the  Bride  of  Dunbar, 
plying  between  Dumbarton  and  Harfleur." 


XIV.]  THE  MONOGKAMS.  169 

"Ay!  ay!  Blessed  St.  Bride!"  muttered  Jean 
Kennedy,  with  an  awe-stricken  look ;  then,  collecting 
herself,  she  added,  "  Were  there  no  tokens,  save  these, 
about  the  little  one,  by  which  she  could  be  known  ? " 

"  There  was  a  gold  chain  with  a  cross,  and  what 
you  call  a  reliquary  about  her  little  neck,  and  a  scroll 
written  in  cipher  among  her  swaddling  bauds  ;  but  they 
are  laid  up  at  home,  at  Bridgefield." 

It  was  a  perplexing  situation  for  this  simple-hearted 
and  truthful  woman,  and,  on  the  other  hand,  Jean 
Kennedy  was  no  less  devoted  and  loyal  in  her  own 
line,  a  good  and  conscientious  woman,  but  shrewder, 
and,  by  nature  and  breeding,  far  less  scrupulous  as  to 
absolute  truth. 

The  one  idea  that  Susan,  in  her  confusion,  could 
keep  hold  of  was  that  any  admission  of  knowledge  as 
to  who  her  Cis  really  was,  would  be  a  betrayal  of  her 
husband's  secret ;  and  on  the  other  hand  she  saw  that 
Mrs.  Kennedy,  though  most  keen  to  discover  every- 
thing, and  no  doubt  convinced  that  the  maiden  was  her 
Queen's  child,  was  bent  on  not  disclosing  that  fact  to 
the  foster-mother. 

She  asked  anxiously  whether  Mistress  Cicely  knew 
of  her  being  only  an  adopted  child,  and  Susan  replied 
that  they  had  intended  that  she  never  should  learn 
1  hat  she  was  of  alien  birth ;  but  that  it  had  been 
revealed  by  the  old  sailor  who  had  brought  her  on 
board  the  Mastiff,  though  no  one  had  heard  him  save 
young  Humfrey  and  the  girl  herself,  and  they  had  been, 
so  far  as  she  knew,  perfectly  reserved  on  the  subject. 

Jean  Kennedy  then  inquired  how  the  name  of  Cicely 
ha:  bisn  given,  and  whether  the  child  had  been  so 
baptized  by  Protestant  rites. 

"  Wot  you  who  the  maid  may  be,  madam  ? "  Susan 


170  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [UHAIV 

took  courage  to  ask ;  but  the  Scotswoman  M'ould  not 
be  disconcerted,  and  replied, 

"  How  suld  I  ken  without  a  sight  of  the  tokens  ? 
Gin  I  had  them,  maybe  I  might  give  a  guess,  but  there 
was  mony  a  leal  Scot  sairly  bestead,  wife  and  wean 
and  all,  in  her  Majesty's  cause  that  wearie  spring." 

Here  Cis  stirred  in  her  sleep,  and  both  women  were 
at  her  side  in  a  moment,  but  she  did  not  wake. 

Jean  Kennedy  stood  gazing  at  the  girl  with  eager- 
ness that  she  did  not  attempt  to  conceal,  studying  each 
feature  in  detail ;  but  Cis  showed  in  her  sleep  very 
little  of  her  royal  lineage,  which  betrayed  itself  far 
more  in  her  gait  and  bearing  than  in  her  features. 
Susan  could  not  help  demandiug  of  the  nurse  whether 
she  saw  any  resemblance  that  could  show  the  maiden's 
parentage. 

The  old  lady  gave  a  kind  of  Scotch  guttural  sound 
expressive  of  disappointment,  and  said,  "I'll  no  say 
but  I've  seen  the  like  beetle-broo.  But  we'll  waken 
the  bairn  with  our  clavers,  I'll  away  the  noo.  Maistcr 
Gorion  will  see  her  again  ere  night,  but  it  w^ere  ill  to 
break  her  sleep,  the  puir  lassie  !" 

Nevertheless,  she  could  not  resist  bending  over  and 
kissing  the  sleeper,  so  gently  that  there  was  no  move- 
ment. Then  she  left  the  room,  and  Susan  stood  with 
clasped  hands. 

"  My  child  !  my  child  !  Oh,  is  it  coming  on  thee  ? 
Wilt  thou  be  taken  from  me  !  Oh,  and  to  what  a  fate  ! 
And  to  what  hands  !  They  will  never  never  love  thee  as 
we  have  done  !     0  God,  protect  her,  and  be  her  Father." 

And  Susan  knelt  by  the  bed  in  such  a  paroxysm  of 
grief  that  her  husband,  coming  in  unshod  that  he  might 
not  disturb  the  girl,  apprehended  that  she  had  become 
seriously  worse. 


XIV.]  THE  MONOGRAMS.  l7l 

However,  his  entrance  awoke  her,  and  she  found 
herself  much  better,  and  was  inclined  to  talk,  so  he  sat 
down  on  a  chest  by  the  bed,  and  related  what  Diccon 
had  told  him  of  the  reappearance  of  the  woman  with 
the  basket  of  spar  trinkets. 

"  Beads  and  bracelets,"  said  Cicely. 

"  Ay  ?"  said  he.      "  What  knowest  thou  of  them  ?" 

"  Only  that  she  spake  the  words  so  often ;  and  the 
Queen,  just  ere  that  doctor  began  his  speech,  asked  of 
me  whether  she  did  not  sell  beads  and  bracelets." 

"  'Tis  a  password,  no  doubt,  and  we  must  be  on  our 
guard,"  said  Richard,  while  his  wife  demanded  with 
whom  Diccon  had  seen  her  speaking. 

"  With  Gorion,"  returned  he.  "  That  was  what 
made  the  lad  suspect  something,  knowing  that  the 
chirurgeon  can  barely  speak  three  sentences  in  any 
tongue  but  his  own,  and  those  are  in  their  barbarous 
Scotch.  I  took  the  boy  with  me  and  iiiquired  here, 
there,  and  everywhere  this  afternoon,  but  could  find  no 
one  who  had  ever  seen  or  heard  of  any  one  like  her." 

"  Tell  me,  Cis,"  exclaimed  Susan,  with  a  sudden 
conviction,  "  was  she  like  in  any  fashion  to  Tibbott  the 
huckster- woman  who  brought  young  Babington  into 
trouble  three  years  agone  ?" 

"Women's  heads  all  run  on  one  notion,"  said 
Richard.  "  Can  there  be  no  secret  agents  save  poor 
Cuthbert,  whom  I  believe  to  be  beyond  seas  ?" 

"  Nay,  but  hear  what  saith  the  child  ? "  asked 
Susan. 

"  This  woman  was  not  nearly  so  old  as  Tibbott," 
said  Cis,  "  nor  did  she  walk  with  a  staff,  nor  had  she 
those  grizzled  black  brows  that  were  wont  to  frighten 
nie." 

"But  was  she  tall  ?"  asked  Susan. 


172  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP 

"  Oh  yes,  mother.  She  was  very  tall — she  came 
after  Diccon  and  me  with  loug  strides — yet  it  could 
never  have  been  Tibbott!" 

Susan  had  reasons  for  thinking  otherwise,  but  'she 
could  not  pursue  the  subject  at  that  time,  as  she  had 
to  go  down  to  supper  with  her  husband,  and  privacy 
was  impossible.  Even  at  night,  nobody  enjoyed  exten- 
sive quarters,  and  but  for  Cicely's  accident  she  would 
have  slept  with  Dyot,  the  tirewoman,  who  had  arrived 
with  the  baggage,  which  included  a  pallet  bed  for  them. 
However,  the  young  lady  had  been  carried  to  a  chamber 
intended  for  one  of  Queen  Mary's  suite ;  and  there  it 
was  decreed  that  she  should  remain  for  the  night,  the 
mother  sleeping  with  her,  while  the  father  and  son 
betook  themselves  to  the  room  previously  allotted  to 
the  family.  Only  on  the  excuse  of  going  to  take  out 
her  husband's  gear  from  the  mails  was  Susan  able  to 
secure  a  few  words  with  him,  and  then  by  ordering 
out  Diccon,  Dyot,  and  the  serving-man.  Then  she 
could  succeed  in  saying,  "  Mine  husband,  all  will  soon 
out — Mistress  Kennedy  and  Master  Gorion  have  seen 
the  brands  on  the  child's  shoulders.  It  is  my  belief 
that  she  of  the  '  beads  and  bracelets '  bade  the  chirur- 
geon  look  for  them.  Else,  why  should  he  have  thrust 
himself  in  for  a  hurt  that  women-folli:  had  far  better 
have  tended  ?  Now,  that  kinsman  of  yours  knew  that 
poor  Cis  was  none  of  ours,  and  gave  her  a  hint  of  it 
long  ago — that  is,  if  Tibbott  were  he,  and  not  some- 
tliing  worse." 

Eichard  shook  his  head.  "  Give  a  woman  a  hint  of 
a  seminary  priest  in  disguise,  and  she  would  take  a 
new-born  baby  for  one.  I  tell  tliee  I  heard  that 
Cuthbert  was  safe  in  Paris.  But,  be  that  as  it  may,  I 
trust  thou  hast  been  discreet." 


XIV.]  THE  MONOGRAMS.  173 

"  S(  I  strove  to  be,"  said  Susan.  "  Mrs.  Kennedy 
questioned  me.  and  I  told  her." 

"  Wliat  ?"   sharply  demanded  her  husband. 

"Nought  but  truth,"  she  answered,  "save  that  I 
showed  no  knowledge  who  the  maid  really  is,  nor 
le*:  i-3r  guess  that  you  had  read  the  scroll." 

■■■  That  is  well.  Frank  Talbot  was  scarce  within 
his  duty  when  he  gave  me  the  key,  and  it  were  as 
much  as  my  head  were  worth  to  be  known  to  have 
been  aware  of  the  matter."  To  this  Susan  could  only 
assent,  as  they  were  interrupted  by  the  serving-man 
coming  to  ask  directions  about  the  bestowal  of  the 
goods. 

She  was  relieved  by  this  short  colloquy,  but  it  was 
a  sad  and  wakeful  night  for  her  as  Cicely  slept  by  her 
side.  Her  love  was  too  truly  motherly  not  to  be 
deeply  troubled  at  the  claim  of  one  of  differing  religion 
and  nation,  and  who  had  so  uncertain  and  perilous 
a  lot  in  which  to  place  her  child.  There  was  also 
the  sense  that  all  her  dearest,  including  her  eldest 
son,  were  involved  in  the  web  of  intrigue  with  per- 
sons far  mightier  and  more  unscrupulous  than  them- 
selves ;  and  that,  however  they  might  strive  to  preserve 
their  integrity,  it  would  be  very  hard  to  avoid  suspicion 
and  danger. 

In  tliis  temporary  abode,  the  household  of  the 
Queen  and  of  the  Earl  ate  together,  in  the  great  aall, 
and  thus  while  breaking  their  fast  in  the  morning  Jean 
Kennedy  found  opportunity  to  examine  Eichard  Talbot 
on  all  the  circumstances  of  the  wreck  of  the  Bride  of 
JDunlar,  and  the  finding  of  the  babe.  She  was  much 
more  on  her  guard  than  the  day  before,  and  said  that 
she  had  a  shrewd  suspicion  as  to  who  the  babe's  parents 
mifdit  be,  but  that  she  could  not  be  certain  without 


174  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

seeing  the  reliquary  and  the  scroll.  Eichard  replied 
that  they  were  at  home,  but  made  no  offer  of  sending 
for  them.  "  Nor  will  I  do  so,"  said  he  to  his  wife, 
"  unless  I  am  dealt  plainly  with,  and  the  lady  herself 
asks  for  them.  Then  should  I  have  no  right  to  detain 
them." 

M.  Gorion  would  not  allow  his  patient  to  leave 
her  room  that  day,  and  she  had  to  remain  there  while 
Susan  was  in  attendance  on  the  Queen,  who  did  not 
appear  to  her  yet  to  have  heard  of  the  discovery,  and 
who  was  entering  with  zest  into  the  routine  of  the 
place,  where  Dr.  Jones  might  be  regarded  as  the 
supreme  legislator. 

Each  division  of  the  great  batli  hall  was  fitted  with 
drying  and  dressing  room,  arranged  commodiously  accord- 
ing to  the  degree  of  those  who  were  to  use  them.  Royalty, 
of  course,  enjoyed  a  monopoly,  and  after  the  hot  bath, 
which  the  Queen  took  immediately  after  rising,  she 
breakfasted  in  her  own  apartments,  and  then  came 
forth,  according  to  the  regimen  of  the  place,  by  playing 
at  Trowle  Madame.  A  board  with  arches  cut  in,  just 
big  enough  to  permit  the  entrance  of  the  balls  used  in 
playing  at  bowls  was  placed  on  the  turf  at  a  convenient 
distance  from  the  player.  Each  arch  was  numbered, 
from  one  to  thirteen,  but  the  numbers  were  irregularly 
arranged,  and  the  game  consisted  in  rolling  bowls  into 
the  holes  in  succession,  each  player  taking  a  single 
turn,  and  the  winner  reaching  the  highest  number 
first, — being,  in  fact,  a  sort  of  lawn  bagatelle.  Dr. 
Jones  recommended  it  as  good  to  stretch  the  rheumatic 
joints  of  his  patients,  and  Queen  Mary,  an  adept  at  all 
uut-of-door  games,  delighted  in  it,  though  she  .had  refused 
an  offer  to  have  the  lawn  arranged  for  it  at  Sheffield, 
saying  that  it  would  only  spoil  a  Buxton  delight.     She 


XIV.]  THE  MONOGRAMS.  175 

was  still  too  stiff  to  play  herself,  but  found  infinite 
amusement  in  teaching  the  new-comers  the  game,  and 
poor  Susan,  with  her  thoughts  far  away,  was  scarcely 
so  apt  a  pupil  as  befitted  a  royal  mistress,  especially 
as  she  missed  Mrs.  Kennedy. 

When  she  came  back,  she  found  that  the  dame  had 
been  sitting  with  the  patient,  and  had  made  herself 
very  agreeable  to  the  girl  by  drawing  out  from  her  all 
she  knew  of  her  own  story  from  beginning  to  end, 
having  first  shown  that  she  knew  of  the  wreck  of  the 
Bride  of  Dunhar. 

"And,  mother,"  said  Cis,  "she  says  she  is  nearly 
certain  that  she  knows  who  my  true  parents  were,  and 
that  she  could  be  certain  if  she  saw  the  swaddling 
clothes  and  tokens  you  had  with  me.  Have  you, 
mother  ?     I  never  knew  of  them." 

"Yes,  child,  I  have.  We  did  not  wish  to  trouble 
and  perturb  your  mind,  little  one,  while  you  were  con- 
tent to  be  our  daughter." 

"Ah,  mother,  I  would  fain  be  yours  and  father's 
still.  They  must  not  take  me  from  you.  But  sup- 
pose I  was  some  great  and  noble  lord's  daughter,  and 
had  a  great  inheritance  and  lordship  to  give  Humfrey  !" 

"  Alas,  child !  Scottish  inheritances  are  wont  to 
bring  more  strife  tlian  wealth." 

Nevertheless,  Gis  went  on  supposing  and  building 
castles  that  were  pain  and  grief  to  her  foreboding- 
auditor.  That  evening,  however,  Eichard  called  his 
wife.  It  was  late,  but  the  northern  sunset  was  only 
just  over,  and  Susan  could  wander  out  with  him  on 
the  greensward  in  front  of  the  Earl's  house. 

"  So  this  is  the  tale  we  are  to  be  put  off  with,"  he 
said,  "  from  the  Queen  herself,  ay,  herself,  and  told 
with  such  an  air  of  truth  that  it  would  almost  make 


176  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

me  diocredit  the  scroll.  She  told  me  with  one  of  her 
sweetest  smiles  how  a  favourite  kinswoman  of  hers 
wedded  in  secret  with  a  faithful  follower  of  hers,  of  the 
clan  Hepburn.  Oh,  I  assure  you  it  might  have  been 
a  ballad  sung  by  a  harper  for  its  sadness.  Well,  this 
fellow  ventured  too  far  in  her  service,  and  had  to  flee 
to  France  to  become  an  archer  of  the  guard,  while  the 
wife  remained  and  died  at  Lochleven  Castle,  having 
given  birth  to  our  Cis,  whom  the  Queen  in  due  time 
despatched  to  her  father,  he  being  minded  to  have  her 
bred  up  in  a  French  nunnery,  sending  her  to  Dum- 
baiton  to  be  there  embarked  in  the  Bride  of  Dunbar." 

"And  the  father?" 

"  Oh,  forsooth,  the  father  !  It  cost  her  as  little  to 
dispose  of  him  as  of  the  mother.  He  was  killed  in 
some  brawl  with  the  Huguenots  ;  so  that  the  poor  child 
is  altogether  an  orphan,  beholden  to  oiu'  care,  for  which 
she  thanked  mo  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  that  were  more 
true  than  mayhap  the  poor  woman  could  help." 

"  Poor  lady,"  said  Susan.  "  Yet  can  it  not  be  sooth 
indeed  ?" 

"  Nay,  dame,  that  may  not  be.  The  cipher  is  not 
one  that  would  be  used  in  simply  sending  a  letter  to 
the  father." 

"  Might  not  the  occasion  have  been  used  for  cor- 
responding in  secret  with  French  friends  ? " 

"  I  tell  thee,  wife,  if  I  read  one  word  of  that  letter, 
I  read  that  the  child  was  her  own,  and  confided  to  the 
Abbess  of  Soissons  !  I  will  read  it  to  thee  once  more 
ere  I  yield  it  up,  that  is  if  I  ever  do.  Wherefore 
cannot  the  woman  speak  truth  to  me  ?  I  would  be 
true  and  faithful  were  I  trusted,  but  to  be  thus  put 
off  with  lies  makes  a  man  ready  at  once  to  ride  off 
with  the  whole  to  the  Queen  in  council." 


XIV.]  THE  MONOGRAMS.  177 

"  Think,  but  think,  dear  sir,"  pleaded  Susan,  "  how 
the  poor  lady  is  pressed,  and  how  much  she  has  to 
fear  on  all  sides." 

"Ay,  because  lies  have  been  meat  and  drink  to 
her,  till  she  cannot  speak  a  soothfast  word  nor  know 
an  honest  man  when  she  sees  him." 

"  What  would  she  have  ?" 

"That  Cis  should  remain  with  us  as  before,  and 
still  pass  for  our  daughter,  till  such  time  as  these 
negotiations  are  over,  and  she  recover  her  kingdom. 
That  is — so  far  as  I  see — like  not  to  be  till  latter 
Lammas — but  meantime  what  sayest  thou,  Susan  ? 
Ah  !  I  knew,  anything  to  keep  the  child  with  thee  ! 
Well,  be  it  so — though  if  I  had  known  the  web  we 
were  to  be  wound  into,  I'd  have  sailed  for  the  Indies 
with  Humfrey  long  ago  !" 


178  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOKY.  [CHAP. 


CHAPTEE    XY. 

MOTHER  AND  CHILD. 

Cicely  was  well  enough  the  next  day  to  leave  her 
room  and  come  out  on  the  summer's  evening  to  enjoy 
the  novel  spectacle  of  Trowle  Madame,  in  which  she 
burned  to  participate,  so  soon  as  her  shoulder  should 
be  weU.  It  was  with  a  foreboding  heart  that  her 
adopted  mother  fell  with  her  into  the  rear  of  the  suite 
who  were  attending  Queen  Mary,  as  she  went  down- 
stairs to  walk  on  the  lawn,  and  sit  under  a  canopy 
whence  she  could  watch  either  that  game,  or  the 
shooting  at  the  butts  whicli  was  being  carried  on  a 
little  farther  off. 

"  So,  our  bonnie  maiden,"  said  Mary,  brightening  as 
she  caught  sight  of  the  young  girl,  "  thou  art  come 
forth  once  more  to  rejoice  mine  eyes,  a  sight  for  sair 
een,  as  they  say  in  Scotland,"  and  she  kissed  the  fresh 
cheeks  with  a  tenderness  that  gave  Susan  a  strange 
pang.  Then  she  asked  kindly  after  the  hurt,  and  bade 
Cis  sit  at  her  feet,  while  she  watched  a  match  in 
archery  between  some  of  the  younger  attendants,  now 
and  then  laying  a  caressing  hand  upon  the  slender 
figure. 

"  Little  one,"  she  said,  "  I  would  fain  have  thee  to 
share  my  pillow.     I  have  had  no  young  bed-fellow 


XV.]  MOTHER  AND  CHILD.  179 

since  Bess  Pierrepoint  left  us.  Wilt  thou  stoop  to 
come  and  cheer  the  poor  old  caged  bird  ?" 

"  Oh,  madam,  how  gladly  will  I  do  so  if  I  may !" 
cried  Cicely,  delighted. 

"  We  will  take  good  care  of  her.  Mistress  Talbot," 
said  Mary,  "  and  deliver  her  up  to  you  whole  and  sain 
in  the  morning,"  and  there  was  a  quivering  playfulness 
in  her  voice. 

"  Your  Grace  is  the  mistress,"  answered  Susan,  with 
a  sadness  not  quite  controlled. 

"  All !  you  mock  me,  madam.  Would  that  I  were  !" 
returned  the  Queen.  "  It  is  my  Lord's  consent  that 
we  must  ask.  How  say  you,  my  Lord,  may  I  have 
this  maiden  for  my  warder  at  night  ?" 

Lord  Shrewsbury  was  far  from  seeing  any  objection, 
and  the  promise  was  given  that  Cis  should  repair  to 
the  Queen's  chamber  for  at  least  that  night.  She  was 
full  of  excitement  at  the  prospect. 

"  Why  look  you  so  sadly  at  me,  sweet  mother  ?"  she 
cried,  as  Susan  made  ready  her  hair,  and  assisted  her  in 
all  the  arrangements  for  which  her  shoulder  was  still 
too  stiff;  "  you  do  not  fear  that  they  will  hurt  my  arm  ?" 

"  No,  truly,  my  child.  They  have  tender  and  skil- 
ful hands." 

"  May  be  they  will  tell  me  the  story  of  my  parents," 
■oaid  Cis ;  "  but  you  need  never  doubt  me,  mother. 
Though  I  were  to  prove  to  be  ever  so  great  a  lady,  no 
one  could  ever  be  mine  own  mother  like  you  !" 

"  Scarcely  in  love,  my  child,"  said  Susan,  as  sho 
wrapped  the  little  figure  in  a  loose  gown,  and  gave  her 
such  a  kiss  as  parents  seldom  permitted  themselves,  in 
the  fear  of  "cockering"  their  children,  which  was  con- 
sidered to  be  a  most  reprehensible  practice.  Nor  could 
she  refrain  from  closely  pressing  Cicely's  hand  as  they 


180  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CIIAP. 

passed  througli  the  corridor  to  the  Queen's  apartments, 
gave  the  word  to  the  two  yeomen  who  were  on  guard 
for  the  night  at  the  head  of  the  stairs,  and  tapped  at 
the  outmost  door  of  the  royal  suite  of  rooms.  It  was 
opened  by  a  French  valet  ;  but  Mrs.  Kennedy  in- 
stantly advanced,  took  the  maiden  by  the  hand,  and 
with  a  significant  smile  said  :  "  Gramercy,  madam,  we 
v^ill  take  unco  gude  tent  of  the  lassie.  A  fair  gude 
nicht  to  ye."  And  Mrs.  Talbot  felt,  as  she  put  the  little 
hand  into  that  of  the  nurse,  and  saw  the  door  shut  on 
them,  as  if  she  had  virtually  given  up  her  daughter, 
and,  oh  !  was  it  for  her  good  ? 

Cis  was  led  into  the  bedchamber,  bright  with 
wax  tapers,  though  the  sky  was  not  yet  dark.  She 
heard  a  sound  as  of  closing  and  locking  double 
doors,  while  some  one  drew  back  a  crimson,  gold-edged 
velvet  curtain,  which  she  had  seen  several  times,  and 
which  it  was  whispered  concealed  the  shrine  where 
Queen  Mary  performed  her  devotions.  She  had  just 
risen  from  before  it,  at  the  sound  of  Cis's  entrance, 
and  two  of  her  ladies,  Mary  Seaton  and  Marie  de 
Courcelles,  seemed  to  have  been  kueeliug  with  her. 
She  was  made  ready  for  bed,  with  a  dark-blue  velvet 
gown  corded  round  her,  and  her  hair,  now  very  gray, 
braided  beneath  a  little  round  cap,  but  a  square  of  soft 
cambric  drapery  had  been  thrown  over  her  head,  so  as 
to  form  a  perfectly  graceful  veil,  and  shelter  the  features 
that  were  aging.  Indeed,  when  Queen  Mary  wore  the 
exquisite  smile  that  now  lit  up  her  face  as  she  held  out 
her  arms,  no  one  ever  paused  to  think  what  those 
lineaments  really  M^ere.  She  held  out  her  arms  as 
Cis  advanced  bashfully,  and  said :  "  Welcome,  my 
sweet  bed-fellow,  my  little  Scot — one  more  loyal  sub- 
ject come  to  me  in  my  bondage." 


XV.]  MOTHER  AND  CHILD.  181 

Cis's  impulse  was  to  put  a  knee  to  the  ground  and  kiss 
the  hands  that  received  her.  "  Thou  art  our  patient," 
continued  Mary.  "  I  will  see  thee  in  bed  ere  I  settle 
myself  there."  The  bed  was  a  tall,  large,  carved  erec- 
tion, with  sweeping  green  and  silver  curtains,  and  a 
huge  bank  of  lace-bordered  pillows.  A  flight  of  low 
steps  facilitated  the  asceut ;  and  Cis,  passive  in  this 
new  scene,  was  made  to  throw  off  her  dressing-gown 
and  climb  up. 

"  And  now,"  said  the  Queen,  "  let  me  see  the  poor 
little  shoulder  that  hath  suffered  so  much." 

"  My  arm  is  still  bound,  madam,"  said  Cis.  But 
she  was  not  listened  to ;  and  Mrs.  Kennedy,  much  to 
her  discomfiture,  turned  back  her  under-garment.  The 
marks  were,  in  fact,  so  placed  as  to  be  entirely  out  of 
her  own  view,  and  Mrs.  Susan  had  kept  them  from  the 
knowledge  or  remark  of  any  one.  They  were  also  high 
enough  up  to  be  quite  clear  from  the  bandages,  and 
thus  she  was  amazed  to  hear  the  exclamation,  "  There  ! 
sooth  enough." 

"  Monsieur  Gorion  could  swear  to  them  instantly." 

"  What  is  it  ?  Oh,  what  is  it,  madam  ?  "  cried  Cis, 
affrighted ;  "  is  there  anything  on  my  back  ?  No 
plague  spot,  I  hope  ;"  and  her  eyes  grew  round  with 
terror. 

The  Queen  laughed.  "  No  plague  spot,  sweet  one, 
save,  perhaps,  in  the  eyes  of  you  Protestants,  but  to  me 
they  are  a  gladsome  sight — a  token  I  never  hoped 
to  see." 

And  the  bewildered  girl  felt  a  pair  of  soft  lips  kiss 
each  mark  in  turn,  and  then  the  covering  was  quickly 
and  caressingly  restored,  and  Mary  added,  "  Lie  down, 
my  child,  and  now  to  bed,  to  bed,  my  maids.  Put  out 
the  lights."      Then,  making  the  sign  of  the  cross,  as 


182  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

Cis  had  seen  poor  Antony  Babington  do,  the  Queen, 
just  as  all  the  lights  save  one  were  extinguished,  was 
divested  of  her  wrapper  and  veil,  and  took  her  place 
heside  Cis  on  the  pillows.  The  two  Maries  left  the 
chamber,  and  Jean  Kennedy  disposed  herself  on  a  pallet 
at  the  foot  of  the  bed. 

"  And  so,"  said  the  Queen,  in  a  low  voice,  tender, 
but  with  a  sort  of  banter,  "  she  thought  she  had  the 
plague  spot  on  her  little  white  shoulders.  Didst  thou 
really  not  know  what  marks  thou  bearest,  little  one  ?" 

"  No,  madam,"  said  Cis.  "  Is  it  what  I  have  felt 
with  my  fingers  ?" 

"Listen,  child,"  said  Mary.  "Art  thou  at  thine 
ease ;  thy  poor  shoulder  resting  well  ?  There,  then, 
give  me  thine  hand,  and  I  will  tell  thee  a  tale.  There 
was  a  lonely  castle  in  a  lake,  grim,  cold,  and  northerly  ; 
and  thither  there  was  brought  by  angry  men  a  captive 
woman.  They  had  dealt  with  her  strangely  and  sub- 
tilly  ;  they  had  laid  on  her  the  guilt  of  the  crimes  them- 
selves had  wrought;  and  when  she  clung  to  the  one 
man  whom  at  least  she  thought  honest,  they  had  forced 
and  driven  her  into  wedding  him,  only  that  all  the 
world  might  cry  out  upon  her,  forsake  her,  and  deliver 
her  up  into  those  cruel  hands." 

There  was  something  irresistibly  pathetic  in  Mary's 
voice,  and  the  maiden  lay  gazing  at  her  with  swimming 
eyes. 

"  Thou  dost  pity  that  poor  lady,  sweet  one  ?  There 
was  little  pity  for  her  tlien  !  She  had  looked  her  last 
on  her  lad -bairn;  ay,  and  they  had  said  she  had 
striven  to  poison  him,  and  they  were  breeding  him  up 
to  loathe  the  very  name  of  his  mother  ;  yea,  and  to  hate 
and  persecute  the  Church  of  his  father  and  his  mother 
hoth.     And  so  it  was,  that  the  lady  vowed  that  ii 


XV.]  MOTHEK  AJS^D  CHIIJ).  183 

another  babe  was  granted  to  her,  sprung  of  that  last 
strange  miserable  wedlock,  these  foes  of  hers  should 
have  no  part  in  it,  nor  knowledge  of  its  very  existence, 
but  that  it  should  be  bred  up  beyond  their  ken — safe 
out  of  their  reach.  Ah  !  child  ;  good  Nurse  Kennedy 
can  best  tell  thee  how  the  jealous  eyes  and  ears  were 
disconcerted,  and  in  secrecy  and  sorrow  that  birth  took 
place. 

Cis's  heart  was  beating  too  fast  for  speech,  but 
there  was  a  tight  close  pressure  of  the  hand  that  Mary 
had  placed  within  hers. 

"  The  poor  mother,"  went  on  the  Queen  in  a  low 
trembling  voice,  "  durst  have  scarce  one  hour  s  joy  of  her 
first  and  only  daughter,  ere  the  trusty  Gorion  took  the 
little  one  from  her,  to  be  nursed  in  a  hut  on  the  other 
side  of  the  lake.  There,"  continued  Mary,  forgetting 
the  third  person,  "  I  hoped  to  have  joined  her,  so  soon 
as  I  was  afoot  again.  The  faithful  lavender  lent  me 
her  garments,  and  I  was  already  in  the  boat,  but  the 
men-at-arms  were  rude  and  would  have  pulled  down 
my  muffler ;  I  raised  my  hand  to  protect  myself,  and 
it  was  all  too  white.  They  had  not  let  me  stain  it, 
because  the  dye  would  not  befit  a  washerwoman.  So 
there  was  I  dragged  back  to  ward  again,  and  all  our 
plans  overthrown.  And  it  seemed  safer  and  meeter  to 
put  my  little  one  out  of  reach  of  all  my  foes,  even  if 
it  were  far  away  from  her  mother's  aching  heart.  Not 
one  more  embrace  could  I  be  granted,  but  my  good 
chaplain  Eoss — whom  the  saints  rest — baptized  her  in 
secret,  and  Gorion  had  set  two  marks  on  the  soft  flesh, 
which  he  said  could  never  be  blotted  out  in  after 
years,  and  then  her  father's  clanswoman,  Alison  Hep- 
burn, undertook  to  carry  her  to  France,  with  a  letter 
of  mine  bound  up  in  her  swathing  clothes,  committing 


184  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

her  to  the  charge  of  my  good  aunt,  the  Abbess  of 
Soissons,  in  utter  secrecy,  until  better  days  should 
come.  Alas !  I  thought  them  not  so  far  off.  I 
deemed  that  were  I  once  beyond  the  clutches  of 
Morton,  Euthven,  and  the  rest,  the  loyal  would  rally 
once  more  round  my  standard,  and  my  crown  would 
be  mine  own,  mine  enemies  and  those  of  my  Church 
beneath  my  feet.  Little  did  I  guess  that  my  escape 
would  only  be  to  see  them  slain  and  routed,  and  that 
when  I  threw  myself  on  the  hospitality  of  my  cousin, 
he"r  tender  mercies  would  prove  such  as  I  have  found 
them.     'Libera  me,  Domine,  libera  mey 

Cis  began  dimly  to  understand,  but  she  was  still 
too  much  awed  to  make  any  demonstration,  save  a 
convulsive  pressure  of  the  Queen's  hand,  and  the 
murmuring  of  the  Latin  prayer  distressed  her. 

Presently  Mary  resumed.  "  Long,  long  did  I  hope 
my  little  one  was  safely  sheltered  from  all  my  troubles 
in  the  dear  old  cloisters  of  Soissons,  and  that  it  was 
caution  in  my  good  aunt  the  abbess  that  prevented  ray 
hearing  of  her ;  but  through  my  faithful  servants,  my 
Lord  Fletnyng,  who  had  been  charged  to  speed  her  from 
Dumbarton,  at  length  let  me  know  that  the  ship  in  which 
she  sailed,  the  Bride  of  Dunbar,  had  been  never  heard 
of  more,  and  was  thought  to  have  been  cast  away  in  a 
tempest  that  raged  two  days  after  she  quitted  Dum- 
barton. And  I — I  slied  some  tears,  but  I  could  well 
believe  that  the  innocent  babe  had  been  safely  wel- 
comed among  the  saints,  and  I  could  not  grieve  that 
she  was,  as  I  thought,  spared  from  the  doom  that 
rests  upon  the  race  of  Stewart.  Till  one  week  back,  I 
gave  thanks  for  that  child  of  sorrow  as  cradled  in 
Paradise." 

Then  followed  a  pause,  and  then  Cis  said  in  a  low 


XV.]  MOTHER  AND  CHILD.  185 

brembliug  voice,  "And  it  was  from  the  wreck  of  the 
Bride  of  Danhar  that  I  was  taken  ? " 

"  Thou  hast  said  it,  child  !  ]\Iy  bairn,  my  bonnie 
bairn  ! "  and  the  girl  was  absorbed  in  a  passionate 
embrace  and  strained  convulsively  to  a  bosom  which 
Leaved  with  th3  sobs  of  tempestuous  emotion,  and  the 
caresses  were  redoubled  upon  her  again  and  again  with 
increasing  fervour  that  almost  frightened  her. 

"  Speak  to  me !  Speak  to  me  !  Let  me  hear  my 
child's  voice." 

"  Oh,  madam " 

"  Call  me  mother !  Never  have  T  heard  that  sound 
from  my  child's  lips.  I  have  borne  two  children,  two 
living  children,  only  to  be  stripped  of  both.  Speak, 
child — let  me  hear  thee." 

Cis  contrived  to  say  "  Mother,  my  mother,"  but 
scarcely  with  effusion.  It  was  all  so  strange,  and  she 
could  not  help  feeling  as  if  Susan  were  the  mother 
she  knew  and  was  at  ease  witli.  All  this  was  much 
too  like  a  dream,  from  which  she  longed  to  awake. 
And  there  was  Mrs.  Kennedy  too,  rising  up  and 
crying  quite  indignantly — "  ]\Iother  indeed  !  Is  that  all 
thou  hast  to  say,  as  though  it  were  a  task  under  tlie 
rod,  when  thou  art  owned  for  her  own  bairn  by  the 
fairest  and  most  ill-used  queen  in  Christendom  ?  Out 
on  thee  !  Have  the  Southron  loons  chilled  thine  heart 
and  made  thee  no  leal  to  thine  ain  mother  that  hatli 
hungered  for  thee  ?" 

The  angry  tones,  and  her  sense  of  her  own  short- 
comings, could  only  make  Cis  burst  into  tears. 

"  Husli,  hush,  nurse  !  thou  shalt  not  chide  my  new- 
found bairn.  She  will  learn  to  ken  us  betJ^er  in 
time  if  they  will  leave  her  with  us,"  said  Mary. 
"  There,  there  ;  greet  not  so  sair,  mine  ain.       I  ask 


186  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

thee  not  to  share  my  sorrows  and  my  woes.  That 
Heaven  forefend.  I  ask  thee  but  to  come  froiQ  time 
to  time  and  cheer  my  nights,  and  lie  on  my  weary 
bosom  to  still  its  ache  and  yearning,  and  let  me  feel 
that  I  have  indeed  a  child." 

"  Oh,  mother,  motlier !"  Cis  cried  again  in  a  stifled 
voice,  as  one  who  could  not  utter  her  feelings,  but  not 
in  the  cold  dry  tone  that  had  called  forth  Mrs. 
Kennedy's  wrath.  "Pardon  me,  I  know  not — I 
cannot  say  what  I  would.  But  oh !  I  would  do  any- 
thing for — for  your  Grace." 

"  All  that  I  would  ask  of  thee  is  to  hold  thy  peace 
and  keep  our  counsel.  Be  Cicely  Talbot  by  day  as 
ever.  Only  at  night  be  mine — my  child,  my  Bride, 
for  so  wast  thou  named  after  our  Scottish  patroness. 
It  was  a  relic  of  her  sandals  that  was  hung  about  thy 
neck,  and  her  ship  in  which  thou  didst  sail ;  and  lo,  she 
heard  and  guarded  thee,  and  not  merely  saved  thee  from 
death,  but  provided  thee  a  happy  joyous  home  and 
well -nurtured  childliood.  We  must  render  her  our 
thanks,  my  chUd.      Bcata  Brigitia,  ora  fro  nobis." 

"  It  was  the  good  God  Almighty  who  saved  me, 
madam,"  said  Cis  bluntly. 

"  Alack  !  I  forgot  that  yonder  good  lady  could 
not  fail  to  rear  thee  in  the  outer  darkness  of  her 
heresy ;  but  thou  wilt  come  back  to  us,  my  ain  wee 
thing  !  Heaven  forbid  that  I  should  deny  Whose  Hand 
it  was  that  saved  thee,  but  it  was  at  the  blessed 
Bride's  intercession.  No  doubt  she  reserved  for  me, 
who  had  turned  to  her  in  my  distress,  this  precious 
consolation  !  But  I  will  not  vex  thy  little  heart  with 
debate  this  first  night.  To  be  mother  and  child  is 
enough  for  us.     What  art  thou  pondering?" 

"  Only,  madam,  who  was  it  that  told  your  Grace 
that  I  was  a  stranger  ?" 


XV,]  MOTHER  AND  CHILD.  187 

"The  marks,  bairnie,  the  marks,"  said  Mary. 
"  They  told  their  own  tale  to  good  Nurse  Jeaiiie ;  ay, 
and  to  Gorion,  whom  we  blamed  lor  his  cruelty  in 
branding  my  poor  little  lamniie." 

"  Ah !  but,"  said  Cicely,  "  did  not  yonder  woman 
with  the  beads  and  bracelets  bid  him  look  ? " 

If  it  had  been  lighter,  Cicely  would  have  seen  that 
the  Queen  was  not  pleased  at  the  inquiry,  but  she 
only  heard  the  answer  from  Jean's  bed,  "  Hout  no,  I 
wad  she  knew  nought  of  thae  brands.  How  should 
she?" 

"  Nay,"  said  Cicely,  "  she — no,  it  was  Tibbott  the 
huckster-woman  told  me  long  ago  that  I  was  not  what 
I  seemed,  and  that  I  came  from  the  north — I  cannot 
understand  !     Were  they  the  same  ?" 

"  The  bairn  kens  too  much,"  said  Jean.  "  Dinna 
ye  deave  her  Grace  with  your  speirings,  my  lammic. 
Ye'll  haA^e  to  learn  to  keep  a  quiet  sough,  and  to  see 
mickle  ye  canna  understand  here." 

"  Silence  her  not,  good  nurse,"  said  the  Queen,  "  it 
imports  us  to  know  this  matter.  What  saidst  thou  of 
Tibbott?" 

"  She  was  the  woman  who  got  Antony  Babington 
into  trouble,"  exj)lained  Cicely.  "  I  deemed  her  a 
witch,  for  she  would  hint  strange  things  concerning  me, 
but  my  father  always  believed  she  was  a  kinsman  of 
his,  who  was  concerned  in  the  Eising  of  the  North, 
and  who,  he  said,  had  seen  me  brought  in  to  Hull 
from  the  wreck." 

"  Ay  ? "  said  the  Queen,  as  a  sign  to  her  to  con- 
tinue. 

"  And  meseemed,"  added  Cicely  timidly,  "  that  the 
strange  woman  at  Tideswell  wlio  talked  of  beads  and 
bracelets    minded    me    of    Tibbott,    though    she    was 


188  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

younger,  and  had  not  her  grizzled  brows ;  but  father 
says  that  cannot  be,  for  Master  Cuthbert  Langston  is 
beyond  seas  at  Paris." 

"  Soh !  that  is  well,"  returned  ]\Iary,  in  a  tone  of 
relief.  "  See,  child.  That  Langston  of  whom  you 
speak  was  a  true  friend  of  mine.  He  has  done  much 
for  me  under  many  disguises,  and  at  the  time  of  thy 
birth  he  lived  as  a  merchant  at  Hull,  trading  with 
Scotland.  Thus  it  may  have  become  known  to  him 
that  the  babe  he  had  seen  rescued  from  the  wreck  was 
one  who  had  been  embarked  at  Dumbarton.  But  no 
more  doth  he  know.  The  secret  of  thy  birth,  my  poor 
,bairn,  was  entrusted  to  none  save  a  few  of  those  about 
me,  and  all  of  those  who  are  still  living  thou  hast 
already  seen.  Lord  Elemyng,  who  put  thee  on  board, 
believed  thee  the  child  of  James  Hepburn  of  Lillie- 
burn,  the  archer,  and  of  my  poor  Mary  Stewart,  a 
kinswoman  of  mine  ain ;  and  it  was  in  that  belief 
doubtless  that  he,  or  Tibbott,  as  thou  call'st  him,  would 
have  spoken  with  thee." 

"  But  the  woman  at  Tideswell,"  said  Cis,  who  was 
getting  bewildered — "  Diccon  said  that  she  spake  to 
Master  Gorion." 

"  That  did  she,  and  pointed  thee  out  to  him.  It  is 
true.  She  is  another  faithful  friend  of  mine,  and  no 
doubt  she  liad  the  secret  from  him.  But  no  more  ques- 
tions, child.  Enough  that  we  sleep  in  each  other's  arms." 

It  was  a  strange  night.  Cis  was  more  conscious  of 
wonder,  excitement,  and  a  certain  exultation,  than  of 
actual  affection.  She  had  not  been  bred  up  so  as  to 
hunger  and  crave  for  love.  Indeed  she  had  been 
treated  with  more  tenderness  and  indulgence  than  was 
usual  with  people's  own  daughters,  and  her  adopted 
parents  had  absorbed  her  undoubting  love  and  respect. 


XV.]  M(frHEK  AND  CHILD,  18ft 

Queen  Mary's  fervent  caresses  were  at  least  as  em- 
barrassing as  they  ^vere  gratifying,  because  she  did  not 
know  what  response  to  make,  and  the  novelty  and 
wonder  of  the  situation  were  absolutely  distressing. 

They  would  have  been  more  so  but  for  the  Queen's 
tact.  She  soon  saw  that  she  was  overwhelming  the 
girl,  and  that  time  must  be  given  for  her  to  become 
accustomed  to  the  idea.  So,  saying  tenderly  something 
about  rest,  she  lay  quietly,  leaving  Cis,  as  she  supposed, 
to  sleep.  This,  however,  was  impossible  to  the  girl, 
except  in  snatches  which  made  her  have  to  prove  to 
herself  again  and  again  that  it  was  not  all  a  dream. 
The  last  of  these  wakenings  was  by  daylight,  as  full  as 
the  heavy  curtains  would  admit,  and  she  looked  up  into 
a  face  that  was  watching  her  with  such  tender  wistful- 
ness  that  it  drew  from  her  perforce  the  word  "  ]\Iother." 

"  Ah  !  that  is  the  tone  with  the  true  ring  in  it.  I 
thank  thee  and  I  bless  thee,  my  bairn,"  said  Mary, 
making  over  her  the  sign  of  the  cross,  at  which  tlie 
maiden  vanced  as  at  an  incantation.  Then  she  added, 
"  My  little  maid,  we  must  be  up  and  stirring.  Mind, 
no  word  of  all  this.  Thou  art  Cicely  Talbot  by  day, 
as  ever,  and  only  my  child,  my  Bride,  mine  ain  wee 
thing,  my  princess  by  night.      Canst  keep  counsel  ?" 

"  Surely,  madam,"  said  Cis,  "  I  have  known  for 
five  years  that  I  was  a  foundling  on  the  wreck,  and 
i  never  uttered  a  word." 

Mary  smiled.  "  This  is  either  a  very  simple  child 
or  a  very  canny  one,"  she  said  to  Jean  Kennedy, 
"  Eitlier  she  sees  no  boast  in  being  of  royal  blood,  or 
she  deems  tliat  to  have  the  mother  she  has  found  is 
worse  than  the  being  the  nameless  foundling." 

"  Oh  !  madam,  mother,  not  so  !  I  meant  but  that 
1  had  lield  my  tongue  when  I  had  something  to  tell !" 


190  UNKNOWN  TO  HISfORY.  [CHAP. 

"  Let  thy  secrecy  stand  tliee  iu  good  stead,  child," 
said  the  Queen.  "  Eemember  that  did  the  bruit  once 
get  abroad,  thou  wouldest  assuredly  be  torn  from 
me,  to  be  mewed  up  where  the  English  Queen  could 
hinder  thee  from  ever  wedding  living  man.  Ay,  and 
it  might  bring  the  head  of  thy  foster-father  to  the 
block,  if  he  were  thought  to  have  concealed  the  matter. 
I  fear  me  thou  art  too  young  for  such  a  weighty  secret." 

"  I  am  seventeen  years  old,  madam,"  returned  Cis, 
with  dignity ;  "  I  have  kept  the  other  secret  since  I 
was  twelve." 

"  Then  thou  wilt,  I  trust,  have  the  wisdom  not  to 
take  the  princess  on  thee,  nor  to  give  any  suspicion  that 
we  are  more  to  one  another  than  the  caged  bird  and 
the  bright  linnet  that  comes  to  sing  on  the  bars  of 
her  cage.  Only,  child,  thou  must  get  from  Master 
Talbot  these  tokens  that  I  hear  of.     Hast  seen  them  ? " 

"  Never,  madam ;  indeed  I  knew  not  of  them." 

"  I  need  them  not  to  know  thee  for  mine  own,  but 
it  is  not  well  that  they  should  be  in  stranger  hands. 
Thou  canst  say — But  hush,  we  must  be  mum  for  the 
present." 

For  it  became  necessary  to  admit  the  Queen's 
morning  draught  of  spiced  milk,  borne  in  by  one  of 
her  suite  who  had  to  remain  uninitiated ;  and  from 
that  moment  no  more  confidences  could  be  exchanged, 
until  the  time  that  Cis  had  to  leave  the  Queen's 
chamber  to  join  the  rest  of  the  household  in  tlie  daily 
prayers  offered  in  the  chapel.  Her  dress  and  hair  had, 
according  to  promise,  been  carefully  attended  to,  but 
she  was  only  finished  and  completed  just  in  time  to 
join  her  adopted  parents  on  the  way  down  the  stairs. 
She  knelt  in  the  hall  for  their  blessing — an  action  a? 
residar  and  as   mechanical  as  the  morning  kiss  and 


XV.]  MOTHER  AND  CHILD.  191 

greeting  now  are  between  pcarent  and  child ;  Lut  there 
was  something  in  her  face  tliat  made  Susan  say  to 
herself,  "  She  knows  all." 

They  could  not  speak  to  one  another  till  not  only 
matins  but'  breakfast  were  ended,  and  then — after  the 
somewhat  solid  meal — the  ladies  had  to  put  on  their 
out-of-door  gear  to  attend  Queen  Mary  in  her  daily 
exercise.  The  dress  was  not  much,  high  summer  as  it 
was,  only  a  loose  veil  over  the  stiff  cap,  and  a  fan  in 
the  gloved  hand  to  act  as  parasol.  However  the 
retirement  gave  Cicely  an  interval  in  which  to  say, 
"  0  mother,  she  has  told  me,"  and  as  Susan  sat  holding 
out  her  arms,  the  adopted  child  threw  herself  on  her 
knees,  hiding  her  face  on  that  bosom  where  she  had 
found  comfort  all  her  life,  and  where,  her  emotion  at 
last  finding  full  outlet,  she  sobbed  without  knowing 
why  for  some  moments,  till  she  started  nervously  at 
the  entrance  of  Kichard,  saying,  '■  The  Queen  is  asking 
for  you  both.      But  how  now  ?      Is  all  told  ?" 

"  Ay,"  whispered  his  wife. 

"  So  !  And  why  these  tears  ?  Tell  me,  my  maid, 
was  not  she  good  to  thee  ?  Doth  she  seek  to  take  thee 
into  her  own  keeping  ?" 

"  Oh  no,  sir,  no,"  said  Cis,  still  kneeling  against  the 
motherly  knee  and  struggling  with  her  sobs.  "  JSTo  one 
is  to  guess.  I  am  to  be  Cicely  Talbot  all  the  same, 
till  better  days  come  to  her." 

"  The  safer  and  the  happier  for  thee,  child.  Here 
are  two  honest  hearts  tliat  will  not  cast  thee  off,  even 
if,  as  I  suspect,  yonder  lady  would  fain  be  quit  of  thee." 

"  Oh  no !"  burst  from  Cicely,  then,  shocked  at 
having  committed  the  offence  of  interrupting  liim,  she 
added,  "  Dear  sir,  I  crave  your  pardon,  but,  indeed,  she 
is  all  fondness  and  love." 


192  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

"  Then  what  means  this  passion  ?"  he  asked,  looking 
from  one  to  the  other. 

"  It  means  only  that  the  child's  senses  and  spirits 
are  overcome,"  said  Susan,  "  and  that  she  scarce  knows 
how  to  take  this  discovery.      Is  it  not  so,  sweetheart  ?" 

"  Oh,  sweet  mother,  yes  in  sooth.  You  will  ever 
be  mother  to  me  indeed  !" 

"  Well  said,  little  maid  !"  said  Pdchard.  "  Thou 
mightest  search  the  world  over  and  never  hap  upon 
such  another." 

"  But  she  oweth  duty  to  the  true  mother,"  said 
Susan,  with  her  hand  on  the  girl's  neck. 

"  We  wot  well  of  that,"  answered  her  husband,  "  and 
I  trow  the  first  is  to  be  secret." 

"  Yea,  sir,"  said  Cis,  recovering  herself,  "  none  save 
the  very  few  who  tended  her,  the  Queen  at  Lochleven, 
know  who  I  verily  am.  Such  as  were  aware  of  the 
babe  being  put  on  board  ship  at  Dumbarton,  thought 
me  the  daughter  of  a  Scottish  archer,  a  Hepburn,  and 
she,  the  Queen  my  mother,  would  have  me  pass  as 
such  to  those  who  needs  must  know  I  am  not  myself" 

"  Trust  her  for  making  a  double  web  when  a  single 
one  would  do,"  muttered  Kichard,  but  so  tliat  the  girl 
could  not  hear. 

"  There  is  no  need  for  any  to  know  at  present/'  said 
Susan  hastily,  moved  perhaps  by  the  same  dislike  to 
deception ;  "  but  ah,  there's  that  fortune-telling  woman." 

Cis,  proud  of  her  secret  information,  here  explained 
that  Tibbott  was  indeed  Cuthbert  Laugston,  but  not 
the  person  whose  password  was  "  beads  and  bracelets," 
and  that  both  alike  could  know  no  more  than  the  story 
of  the  Scottish  archer  and  his  young  wife  ;  but  they 
were  here  interrupted  by  the  appearance  of  Diccon, 
who  had  been  sent  by  my  Lord  himself  to  hasten  tliem, 


XV.]  MOTHER  AND  CHILD.  193 

at  the  instance  of  the  Queeu.  Master  Eichard  sent  the 
boy  on  with  his  mother,  saying  he  would  wait  and 
bring  Cis,  as  she  had  still  to  compose  her  hair  and  coif, 
which  had  become  somewhat  disordered, 

"  My  maiden,"  he  said,  gravely,  "  I  have  somewhat 
to  say  unto  thee.  Thou  art  in  a  stranger  case  than 
any  woman  of  thy  years  between  the  four  seas ;  nay, 
it  may  be  in  Christendom.  It  is  woeful  hard  for  thee 
not  to  be  a  traitor  through  mere  lapse  of  tongue  to 
thine  own  mother,  or  else  to  thy  Queen.  So  I  tell 
thee  this  once  for  all.  See  as  little,  hear  as  little,  and, 
above  all,  say  as  little  as  thou  canst." 

"  Not  to  mother  ?"  asked  Cis. 

"  No,  not  to  her,  above  all  not  to  me ;  and,  my  girl, 
pray  God  daily  to  keep  thee  true  and  loyal,  and  guard 
thee  and  the  rest  of  us  from  snares.  Now  have  with 
thee.     We  may  tarry  no  longer!" 

All  went  as  usual  for  the  rest  of  the  day,  so  that 
the  last  night  was  like  a  dream,  until  it  became  plain 
that  Cicely  was  again  to  share  the  royal  apartment. 

"  Ah,  I  have  thirsted  for  this  hour !"  said  Mary, 
holding  out  her  arms  and  drawing  her  daughter  to  her 
bosom.  "  Thou  art  a  canny  lassie,  mine  ain  wee  thing. 
None  could  have  guessed  from  thy  bearing  that  there 
was  aught  betwixt  us." 

"  In  sooth,  madam,"  said  the  girl,  "  it  seems  that  I 
am  two  maidens  in  one — Cis  Talbot  by  day,  and  Bride 
of  Scotland  by  night." 

"  That  is  well !  Be  all  C:^  Talbot  by  day.  When 
there  is  need  to  dissemble,  believe  in  thine  own  feign- 
ing. 'Tis  for  want  of  that  art  that  these  clumsy 
Southrons  make  themselves  but  a  laughing-stock  when- 
ever they  have  a  secret." 

Cis  did  not  understand  the  maxim,  and  submitted 
o 


194  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

in  silence  to  some  caresses  before  she  said,  "  My  father 
will  give  your  Grace  the  tokens  when  we  return." 

"Thy  father,  child?" 

"  I  crave  your  pardon,  madam,  it  comes  too  trip- 
pingly to  my  tongue  thus  to  term  JMaster  Talbot." 

"  So  much  the  better.  Thy  tongue  must  not  lose 
the  trick.  1  did  but  feel  a  moment's  fear  lest  thou 
hadst  not  been  guarded  enough  with  yonder  sailor 
man,  and  had  let  him  infer  over  much." 

"  0,  surely,  madam,  you  never  meant  me  to  with- 
hold the  truth  from  father  and  mother,"  cried  Cis,  in 
astonishment  and  dismay. 

"  Tush  !  silly  maid  !"  said  the  Queen,  really  angered. 
"  Father  and  mother,  forsooth  !  Now  shall  we  have  a 
fresh  coil  !  I  should  have  known  better  than  to  have 
trusted  thy  word." 

"  Never  would  I  have  given  my  word  to  deceive 
them,"  cried  Cis,  hotly. 

"  Lassie  !"  exclaimed  Jean  Kennedy,  "  ye  forget  to 
whom  ye  speak." 

"  Nay,"  said  Mary,  recovering  herself,  or  rather  see- 
ing how  best  to  punish,  "  'tis  the  poor  bairn  who  will 
be  the  sufferer.  Our  state  cannot  be  worse  than  it  is 
already,  save  that  I  shall  lose  her  presence,  but  it 
pities  me  to  think  of  her." 

"  The  secret  is  safe  with  them,"  repeated  Cis.  "  0 
madam,  none  are  to  be  trusted  like  them." 

"  Tell  me  not,"  said  the  Queen.  "  The  sailor's 
blundering  loyalty  will  not  suffer  him  to  hold  his 
tongue.  I  would  lay  my  two  lost  crowns  that  he  is 
down  on  his  honest  knees  before  my  Lord  craviug  par- 
don for  having  unwittingly  fostered  one  of  the  viper 
brood.  Then,  via  !  off  goes  a  post — boots  and  spurs  are 
no  doubt  already  on — and  by  and  by  comes  KnoUys, 


XV.]  MOTHEK  AND  CHILD.  1911 

or  Carey,  or  Walsingham,  to  bear  off  the  perilous 
maiden  to  walk  in  Queen  Bess's  train,  and  have  her 
ears  boxed  when  her  Majesty  is  out  of  humour,  or 
when  she  gets  weary  of  dressing  St.  Katherine's  hair, 
and  weds  the  man  of  her  choice,  she  begins  to  taste 
of  prison  walls,  and  is  a  captive  for  the  rest  of  her 
days." 

Cis  was  reduced  to  tears,  and  assurances  that  if 
the  Queen  would  only  broach  the  subject  to  Master 
Eichard,  she  would  perceive  that  he  regarded  as  sacred, 
secrets  that  were  not  his  own  ;  and  to  show  that  he 
meant  no  betrayal,  she  repeated  his  advice  as  to  seeing, 
hearing,  and  saying  as  little  as  possible. 

"  Wholesome  counsel !"  said  Mary.  "  Cheer  thee, 
lassie  mine,  I  will  credit  whatever  thou  wilt  of  this 
foster-father  of  thine  until  I  see  it  disproved  ;  and  for 
the  good  lady  his  wife,  she  hath  more  inward,  if  less 
outward,  grace  than  any  dame  of  the  mastiff  brood 
which  guards  our  prison  court  !  I  should  have 
warned  thee  that  they  were  not  excepted  from  those 
who  may  deem  thee  my  poor  Mary's  child." 

Cicely  did  not  bethink  herself  that,  in  point  of  fact, 
she  had  not  communicated  her  royal  birth  to  her 
adopted  parents,  but  that  it  had  been  assumed  hetween 
them,  as,  indeed,  they  had  not  mentioned  their  previous 
knowledge.  Mary  presently  proceeded — "  After  all, 
we  may  not  have  to  lay  too  heavy  a  burden  on  their 
discretion.  Better  days  are  coming.  One  day  shall 
our  faithful  lieges  open  the  way  to  freedom  and  royalty, 
and  thou  shalt  have  wliatever  boon  thou  wouldst  ask, 
even  were  it  pardon  for  my  Lady  Shrewsbury." 

"  There  is  one  question  I  would  fain  ask,  Madam 
mother :  Doth  my  real  father  yet  live  ?  The  Earl 
of " 


196  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

Jeau  Kennedy  made  a  sound  of  indignant  warning 
and  consternation,  cutting  her  short  in  dismay ;  but 
the  Queen  gripped  her  hand  tightly  for  some  moments, 
and  then  said  :  "  'Tis  not  a  thing  to  speir  of  me,  child, 
of  me,  the  most  woefully  deceived  and  forlorn  of  ladies. 
Never  have  I  seen  nor  heard  from  him  since  the  part- 
ing at  Carbery  Hill,  when  he  left  me  to  bear  the 
brunt  !  Folk  say  that  he  took  ship  for  the  north. 
Believe  him  dead,  child.  So  were  it  best  for  us  both  ; 
but  never  name  him  to  me  more." 

Jean  Kennedy  knew,  though  the  girl  did  not,  what 
these  words  conveyed.  If  Bothwell  no  longer  lived, 
there  would  be  no  need  to  declare  the  marriage  null 
and  void,  and  thus  sacrifice  his  daughter's  position  ; 
but  supposing  him  to  be  in  existence,  Mary  had 
already  shown  herself  resolved  to  cancel  the  very 
irregular  bonds  which  had  united  them, — a  most 
easy  matter  for  a  member  of  her  Church,  since  they 
had  been  married  by  a  Reformed  minister,  and  Both- 
w^ell  had  a  living  wife  at  the  time.  Of  all  this  Cicely 
was  absolutely  ignorant,  and  was  soon  eagerly  listening 
as  the  Queen  spoke  of  her  hopes  of  speedy  deliverance. 
"  ]\Iy  son,  my  Jamie,  is  working  for  me !"  she  said. 
"  Nay,  dost  not  ken  what  is  in  view  for  me  ?" 

"  No,  madam,  my  good  father.  Master  Eichard,  I 
mean,  never  tells  aught  that  he  hears  in  my  Lord's 
closet." 

"  That  is  to  assure  me  of  his  discretion,  T  trow  ! 
But  this  is  no  secret !  No  treason  against  our  well- 
beloved  cousin  Bess  !  Oh  no  !  But  thy  brother,  mine 
ain  lad -bairn,  hath  come  to  years  of  manhood,  and 
hath  shaken  himself  free  of  the  fetters  of  Knox  and 
Morton  and  Buchanan,  and  all  their  clamjamfrie. 
The  Stewart  lion  hath  been  too  strong  for  them.      The 


XV.]  MOTHER  AND  CHILD.  197 

piiir  laddie  hath  true  men  about  him,  at  last, —  the 
Master  of  Gray,  as  they  call  him,  and  Esme  Stewart  of 
Aubigny,  a  Scot  polished  as  tlie  French  know  how 
to  brighten  Scottish  steel.  Nor  will  the  lad  bide 
that  his  mother  should  pine  longer  in  durance.  He 
yearns  for  her,  and  hath  writ  to  her  and  to  Elizabeth 
ofiferiug  her  a  share  in  his  throne.  Poor  laddie,  what 
would  be  oiitrecuidance  in  another  is  but  duteousness 
in  him.  What  will  he  say  when  we  bring  him  a 
sister  as  well  as  a  mother  ?  They  tell  me  that  he  is 
an  unco  scholar,  but  uncouth  in  his  speech  and  man- 
ners, and  how  should  it  be  otherwise  with  no  woman 
near  him  save  my  old  Lady  Mar  ?  We  shall  have  to 
take  him  in  hand  to  teach  him  fair  courtesy." 

"  Sure  he  will  be  an  old  pupil !"  said  Cis,  "  if  he  be 
more  than  two  years  my  elder." 

"  Never  fear,  if  we  can  find  a  winsome  young  bride 
for  him,  trust  mother,  wife,  and  sister  for  moulding 
him  to  kingly  bearing.  We  will  make  our  home  in 
Stirling  or  Linlithgow,  we  two,  and  leave  Holyrood  to 
him.  I  have  seen  too  much  there  ever  to  thole  the 
sight  of  those  chambers,  far  less  of  the  High  Street  of 
Edinburgh ;  but  Stirling,  bonnie  Stirling,  ay,  I  would 
fain  ride  a  hawking  there  once  more.  Methiuks  a 
Highland  breeze  would  put  life  and  youth  into  me 
again.  There's  a  little  chamber  opening  into  miue, 
wdiere  I  will  bestow  thee,  my  Lady  Bride  of  Scot- 
land, for  so  long  as  I  may  keep  thee.  Ah  !  it  will  not 
be  for  long.  They  will  be  seeking  thee,  my  brave 
courtly  faithful  kindred  of  Lorraine,  and  Scottish 
nobles  and  English  lords  will  vie  for  this  little  hand 
of  thine,  where  courses  the  royal  blood  of  both  reabns." 

"  So  please  you,  madam,  my  mother " 

"  Eh  ?     What  is  it  ?     Who  is  it  ?     I  deemed   that 


198  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOKY.  [CHAP 

yonder  honourable  dame  had  kept  thee  from  all  the 
frolics  and  foibles  of  the  poor  old  profession.  Fear 
not  to  tell  me,  little  one.  Eemember  thine  own 
mother  hath  a  heart  for  such  matters.  I  guess 
.'liready.      G'etait  un  heau  gargon,  ce  pauvre  Antoine." 

"  Oh  no,  madam,"  exclaimed  Cicely.  "  When  the 
sailor  Goatley  disclosed  that  I  was  no  child  of  my 
father's,  of  Master  Eichard  I  mean,  and  was  a  nameless 
creature  belonging  to  no  one,  Humfrey  Talbot  stood 
forth  and  pledged  himself  to  wed  me  so  soon  as  we 
were  old  enough." 

"And  what  said  the  squire  and  dame  ?" 

"  That  I  should  then  be  indeed  their  daughter." 

"And  hath  the  contract  gone  no  farther  ?" 

"No,  madam.  He  hath  been  to  the  North  with 
Captain  Frobisher,  and  since  that  to  the  Western  Main, 
and  we  look  for  his  return  even  now," 

"  How  long  is  it  since  this  pledge,  as  thou  callest 
it,  was  given  ?" 

"  Five  years  next  Lammas  tide,  madam," 

"  Was  it  by  ring  or  token  ?" 

"  No,  madam.  Our  mother  said  we  were  too  young, 
but  Humfrey  meant  it  with  all  his  heart." 

"  Humfrey !  That  was  the  urchin  who  must 
needs  traverse  the  correspondence  through  tlie  seeming 
Tibbott,  and  so  got  Antony  removed  from  about  us. 
A  stout  lubberly  Yorkshire  lad,  fed  on  beef  and  pud- 
ding, a  true  Talbot,  a  mere  English  bull-dog  who  will 
have  lost  all  the  little  breeding  he  had,  while  commit- 
ting spulzie  and  piracy  at  sea  on  his  Catholic  Majesty's 
ships.  Bah,  mon  enfant,  I  am  glad  of  it.  Had  he 
been  a  graceful  young  courtly  page  like  the  poor 
Antony,  it  might  have  been  a  little  difficult,  but  a 
great  English  carle  like  that,  whom  thou  hast  not  seen 


XV.]  MOTHER  AND  CHILD.  199 

for  five  years — "  She  made  a  gesture  with  her  grace- 
ful hands  as  if  casting  away  a  piece  of  thistledown. 

"  Humfrey  is  my  very  good — my  very  good  brother 
madam,"  cried  Cicely,  casting  about  for  words  to 
defend  him,  and  not  seizing  the  most  appropriate. 

"  Brother,  quotha  ?  Yea,  and  as  good  brother  he  shall 
be  to  thee,  and  welcome,  so  long  as  thou  art  Cis  Talbot 
by  day — but  no  more,  child.  Princesses  mate  not  with 
Yorkshire  esquires.  When  the  Lady  Bride  takes  her 
place  in  the  halls  of  her  forefathers,  she  will  be  the 
property  of  Scotland,  and  her  hand  will  be  sought  by 
princes.  Ah,  lassie !  let  it  not  grieve  thee.  One  thing 
thy  mother  can  tell  thee  from  her  own  experience. 
There  is  more  bliss  in  mating  with  our  equals,  by  the 
choice  of  others,  than  in  following  our  own  wild  will. 
Thou  gazest  at  me  in  wonder,  but  verily  my  happy 
days  were  with  my  gentle  young  king — and  so  will 
thine  be,  I  pray  the  saints  happier  and  more  endur- 
ing than  ever  were  mine.  Nothing  has  ever  lasted 
with  me  but  captivity,  0  libera  me." 

And  in  the  murmured  repetition  the  mother  fell 
asleep,  and  the  daughter,  who  had  slumbered  little  the 
night  before,  could  not  but  likewise  drop  into  the 
world  of  soothing  oblivion,  though  with  a  dull  feeling 
of  aching  and  yearning  towards  the  friendly  kindly 
Humfrey,  yet  with  a  certain  exultation  in  the  fate 
that  seemed  to  be  carrying  her  on  inevitably  beyond 
his  reach. 


200  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOfiY.  [CHAP. 


CHAPTEE  XVL 

THE   PEAK  CAVEEN. 

Tt  was  quite  true  that  at  this  period  Queen  Mary  had 
good  hope  of  liberation  in  the  most  satisfactory 
manner  possible — short  of  being  hailed  as  English 
Queen.  Negotiations  were  actually  on  foot  with  James 
VI.  and  Elizabeth  for  her  release.  James  had  written 
to  her  with  his  own  hand,  and  she  had  for  the  first 
time  consented  to  give  him  the  title  of  King  of  Scot- 
land. The  project  of  her  reigning  jointly  with  him 
had  been  mooted,  and  each  party  was  showing  how 
enormous  a  condescension  it  would  be  in  his  or  her 
eyes !  Thus  there  was  no  great  unlikelihood  that 
there  would  be  a  recognition  of  the  Lady  Bride,  and 
that  she  would  take  her  position  as  the  daughter  of  a 
queen.  Therefore,  when  ]\Iary  contrived  to  speak  to 
Master  Eichard  Talbot  and  his  wife  in  j)rivate,  she 
was  able  to  thank  them  with  gracious  condescension 
for  the  care  they  had  bestowed  in  rearing  her  daughter, 
much  as  if  she  had  voluntarily  entrusted  the  maiden  to 
them,  saying  she  trusted  to  be  in  condition  to  reward 
them. 

Mistress  Susan's  heart  swelled  high  with  pain,  as 
though  she  had  been  thanked  for  her  care  of  Hum- 
frey  or  Diccon,  and  her  husband  answered,  "  We  seek 


XVI.]  THE  PEAK  CAVERN.  201 

no  reward,  madam.  The  damsel  herself,  while  she 
was  ours,  was  reward  enough." 

"  And  I  must  still  entreat,  that  of  your  goodness 
you  will  let  her  remain  yours  for  a  little  longer,"  said 
Mary,  with  a  touch  of  imperious  grace,  "  until  this 
treaty  is  over,  and  I  am  free,  it  is  better  that  she  con- 
tinues to  pass  for  your  daughter.  The  child  herself 
has  sworn  to  me  by  lier  great  gods,"  said  Mary,  smil- 
ing witli  complimentary  grace,  "  that  you  will  pre- 
serve her  secret — nay,  she  becomes  a  little  fury  when 
I  express  my  fears  lest  you  should  have  scruples." 

"  No,  madam,  this  is  no  state  secret ;  such  as  I 
might  not  with  honour  conceal,"  returned  Eichard. 

"  There  is  true  English  sense ! "  exclaimed  Mary. 
"  I  may  then  count  on  your  giving  my  daughter  the 
protection  of  your  name  and  your  home  until  I  can 
reclaim  her  and  place  her  in  her  true  position.  Yea, 
and  if  your  concealment  should  give  offence,  and  bring 
you  under  any  displeasure  of  my  good  sister,  those  who 
have  so  saved  and  tended  my  daughter  will  have  the 
first  claim  to  whatever  I  can  give  when  restored  to 
my  kingdom." 

"  We  are  much  beholden  for  your  Grace's  favour," 
said  Richard,  somewhat  stiffly,  "  but  I  trust  never  tc 
serve  any  land  save  mine  own." 

"  Ah  !  there  is  your  fitreU^'  cried  Mary.  "  Happy 
is  my  sister  to  have  subjects  with  such  a  point  of 
honour.  Happy  is  my  child  to  have  been  bred  up  by 
such  parents  ! " 

Richard  bowed.  It  was  all  a  man  could  do  at  such 
a  speech,  and  Mary  further  added,  "  She  has  told  me 
to  what  bounds  went  your  goodness  to  her.  It  is  well 
that  you  acted  so  prudently  that  the  children's  hearts 
were  not  engaged ;  for,  as  we  all  know  but  too  well, 
royal  blood  should  have  no  heart." 


202  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOEY.  [CHAF 

"  I  am  quite  aware  of  it,  madam,"  returned  Eich- 
ard,  and  there  for  the  time  the'  conversation  ended. 
Tlie  Queen  had  been  most  charming,  full  of  gratitude, 
and  perfectly  reasonable  in  her  requests,  and  yet  there 
was  some  flaw  in  the  gratification  of  both,  even  while 
neither  thought  the  disappointment  would  go  very 
hard  with  their  son.  Eichard  could  never  divest  him- 
self of  the  instinctive  prejudice  with  which  soft  words 
inspire  men  of  his  nature,  and  Susan's  maternal  heart 
was  all  in  revolt  against  the  inevitable,  not  merely 
grieving  over  the  wrench  to  her  affections,  but  full  of 
forebodings  and  misgivings  as  to  the  future  welfare  of 
her  adopted  child.  Even  if  the  brightest  hopes  should 
be  fulfilled ;  the  destiny  of  a  Scottish  princess  did  not 
seem  to  Southern  eyes  very  brilliant  at  the  best,  and 
whether  poor  Bride  Hepburn  might  be  owned  as  a 
princess  at  all  was  a  doubtful  matter,  since,  if  her 
father  lived  (and  he  had  certainly  been  living  in  1577 
in  Norway),  both  the  Queen  and  the  Scottish  people 
would  be  agreed  in  repudiating  the  marriage.  Any 
way,  Susan  saw  every  reason  to  fear  for  the  happi- 
ness and  the  religion  alike  of  the  child  to  whom  she 
had  given  a  mother's  love.  Under  her  grave,  self- 
contained  placid  demeanour,  perhaps  Dame  Susan  was 
the  most  dejected  of  those  at  Buxton.  The  captive 
Queen  had  her  hopes  of  freedom  and  her  newly  found 
daughter,  who  was  as  yet  only  a  pleasure,  and  not  an 
encumbrance  to  her,  the  Earl  had  been  assured  that 
his  wife's  slanders  had  been  forgotten.  He  was 
secure  of  his  sovereign's  favour,  and  permitted  to  see 
the  term  of  his  weary  jailorship,  and  thus  there  was 
an  unusual  liveliness  and  cheerfulness  about  the  whole 
sojourn  at  Buxton,  where,  indeed,  there  was  always 
more  or  less  of  a  holiday  time. 


XVI.]  THE  PEAK  CAVERN.  203 

To  Cis  herself,  her  nights  ware  like  a  perpetual 
fairy  tale,  and  so  indeed  were  all  times  when  she  was 
alone  with  the  initiated,  who  were  indeed  all  those 
orifjinal  members  of  her  mother's  suite  who  had  known 
of  her  birth  at  Lochleven,  people  who  had  kept  tco 
many  perilous  secrets  not  to  be  safely  entrusted  with 
this  one,  and  whose  finished  habits  of  caution,  in  a 
moment,  on  the  approach  of  a  stranger,  would  change 
their  manner  from  the  deferential  courtesy  due  to  their 
princess,  to  the  good-natured  civility  of  court  ladies  to 
little  Cicely  Talbot. 

Dame  Susan  had  been  gratified  at  first  by  the  young 
girl's  sincere  assurances  of  unchanging  affection  and 
allegiance,  and,  in  truth,  Cis  had  clung  the  most  to  her 
with  the  confidence  of  a  whole  life's  daughterhood,  but 
as  the  days  went  on,  and  every  caress  and  token  of 
affection  imaginable  was  lavished  upon  the  maiden, 
every  splendid  augury  held  out  to  her  of  the  future, 
and  every  story  of  the  past  detailed  the  charms  of 
Mary's  court  life  in  France,  seen  through  the  vista  of 
nearly  twenty  sadly  contrasted  years,  it  was  in  the 
very  nature  of  things  that  Cis  should  regard  the  time 
spent  perforce  with  Mistress  Talbot  much  as  a  petted 
child  views  its  return  to  the  strict  nurse  or  governess 
from  the  delights  of  the  drawing-room.  She  liked  to 
dazzle  the  homely  housewife  with  the  wonderful  tales 
of  French  gaieties,  or  the  splendid  castles  in  the  air  she 
liad  heard  in  the  Queen's  rooms,  but  she  resented  the 
doubt  and  disapproval  they  sometimes  excited  ;  she  was 
petulant  and  fractious  at  any  exercise  of  authority 
from  her  foster-mother,  and  once  or  twice  went  near 
to  betray  herself  by  lapsing  into  a  tone  towards  her 
which  would  have  brought  down  severe  personal 
chastisement  on  any  real  daughter  even  of  seventeen. 


204  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CIIAF. 

It  was  well  that  the  Countess  and  her  sharp-ej'ed 
daughter  Mary  were  out  of  sight,  as  the  sight  of  such 
"  cockering  of  a  malapert  maiden  "  would  have  led  to 
interference  that  might  have  brought  matters  to  ex- 
tremity. Yet,  with  all  the  forbearance  thus  exercised, 
Susan  could  not  but  feel  that  the  girl's  love  was  being 
weaned  from  her ;  and,  after  all,  how  could  she  com- 
plain, since  it  was  by  the  true  mother  ?  If  only  she 
could  have  hoped  it  was  for  the  dear  child's  good,  it 
would  not  have  been  so  hard !  But  the  trial  was  a 
bitter  one,  and  not  even  her  husband  guessed  how 
bitter  it  was. 

The  Queen  meantime  improved  daily  in  health  and 
vigour  in  the  splendid  summer  weather.  The  rheu- 
matism had  quitted  her,  and  she  daily  rode  and  played 
at  Trowle  Madame  for  hours  after  supper  in  the  long 
bright  July  evenings.  Cis,  whose  shoulder  was  quite 
well,  played  with  great  delight  on  the  greensward, 
where  one  evening  she  made  acquaintance  with  a  young 
esquire  and  his  sisters  from  the  neighbourhood,  who 
had  come  with  their  father  to  pay  their  respects  to  my 
Lord  Earl,  as  the  head  of  all  Hallamshire.  The  Earl, 
though  it  was  not  quite  according  to  the  recent  stricter 
rules,  ventured  to  invite  them  to  stay  to  sup  with  the 
household,  and  afterwards  they  came  out  with  the  rest 
upon  the  lawn. 

Cis  was  walking  between  the  young  lad  and  his 
sister,  laughing  and  talking  with  much  animation,  for 
she  had  not  for  some  time  enjoyed  the  pleasure  of  free 
intercourse  with  any  of  her  fellow-denizens  in  the 
happy  land  of  youth. 

Dame  Susan  watched  her  with  some  uneasiness,  and 
presently  saw  her  taking  them  where  she  herself  was 
privilegefl  to  go,  but  strangers  were  never  permitted 


XVI.]  THE  PEAK  CAVEKN.  205 

to  approach,  on  the  Trowle  Madame  sward  reserved 
for  the  Queen,  on  which  she  was  even  now  entering. 

"  Cicely  !"  she  called,  but  the  young  lady  either 
did  not  or  would  not  hear,  and  she  was  obliged  to  walk 
hastily  forw^ard,  meet  the  party,  and  with  courteous 
excuses  turn  them  back  from  the  forbidden  ground. 
They  submitted  at  once,  apologising,  but  Cis,  -with  a 
red  spot  on  her  cheek,  cried,  "  The  Queen  would  take 
no  offence." 

"  That  is  not  the  matter  in  point,  Cicely,"  said 
Dame  Susan  gravely.  "  Master  and  IMistress  Eyre 
understand  that  we  are  bound  to  obedience  to  the  Earl." 

Master  Eyre,  a  well-bred  young  gentleman,  made 
reply  tliat  he  well  knew  that  no  discourtesy  was 
intended,  but  Cis  pouted  and  mutt§red,  evidently  to 
the  extreme  amazement  of  Mistress  Alice  Eyre ;  and 
Dame  Susan,  to  divert  her  attention,  began  to  ask 
about  the  length  of  their  ride,  and  the  way  to  their 
liome. 

Cis's  ill  humour  never  lasted  long,  and  she  suddenly 
broke  in,  "  0  mother.  Master  Eyre  saith  there  is  a 
marvellous  cavern  near  his  father's  house,  all  full  of 
pendants  from  the  roof  like  a  minster,  and  great 
sheeted  tables  and  statues  standing  up,  all  grand  and 
ghostly  on  the  floor,  far  better  than  in  this  Pool's  Hole. 
He  says  his  father  will  have  it  lighted  up  if  we  will 
ride  over  and  see  it." 

"  We  are  much  beholden  to  Master  Eyre,"  said 
Susan,  but  Cis  read  refusal  in  her  tone,  and  began  to 
urge  her  to  consent. 

"  It  must  be  as  my  husband  wills,"  was  the  grave 
answer,  and  at  the  same  time,  courteously,  but  very 
decidedly,  she  bade  the  strangers  farewell,  and  made 
her  daughter  do  the  same,  though  Cis  was  inclined  to 


206  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOEY.  [CHAP. 

resistance,  and  in  a  somewhat  defiant  tone  added,  "  I 
shall  not  forget  your  promise,  sir.  I  long  to  see  the 
cave." 

"  Child,  child,"  entreated  Susan,  as  soon  as  they 
were  out  of  hearing,  "  be  on  thy  guard.  Thou  wilt 
betray  thyself  by  such  conduct  towards  me." 

"  But,  mother,  they  did  so  long  to  see  the  Queen, 
and  there  would  have  been  no  harm  in  it.  They  are 
well  affected,  and  the  young  gentleman  is  a  friend  of 
poor  Master  Babington." 

"  Nay,  Cis,  that  is  further  cause  that  I  should  not 
let  them  pass  onward.  I  marvel  not  at  thee,  my  maid, 
but  thou  and  thy  mother  queen  must  bear  in  mind 
that  while  thou  passest  for  our  daughter,  and  hast 
trust  placed  in  tli^e,  thou  must  do  nothing  to  forfeit  it 

or   bring  thy   fa ,  Master  Eichard    I  mean,   into 

trouble." 

"  I  meant  no  harm,"  said  Cis,  rather  crossly. 

"  Thou  didst  not,  but  harm  may  be  done  by  such  as 
mean  it  the  least." 

"  Only,  mother,  sweet  mother,"  cried  the  girl,  child- 
like, set  upon  her  pleasure,  "  I  will  be  as  good  as  can 
be.  I  will  transgress  in  nought  if  only  thou  wilt  get 
my  father  to  take  me  to  see  ]\Iaster  Eyre's  cavern." 

She  was  altogether  the  home  daughter  again  in  her 
eagerness,  entreating  and  promising  by  turns  with  the 
eager  curiosity  of  a  young  girl  bent  on  an  expedition, 
but  Eichard  was  not  to  be  prevailed  on.  He  had 
little  or  no  acquaintance  with  the  Eyre  family,  and  to 
let  them  go  to  the  cost  and  trouble  of  lighting  up  the 
cavern  for  the  young  lady's  amusement  would  be  like 
the  encouragement  of  a  possible  suit,  which  would 
have  been  a  most  inconvenient  matter.  Eichard  did 
.not  believe  the  young  gentleman  had  warrant  from  hia 


XVI.]  THE  PEAK  CAVERN.  207 

father  in  giving  this  invitation,  and  if  he  had,  that  was 
the  moi:e  reason  for  declining  it.  The  Eyres,  then  hold- 
ing the  royal  castle  of  the  Peak,  were  suspected  of  being 
secretly  Eoman  Catholics,  and  though  the  Earl  could 
not  avoid  hospitably  bidding  them  to  supper,  the  less 
any  Talbot  had  to  do  with  them  the  better,  and  for  the 
present  Cis  must  be  contented  to  be  reckoned  as  one. 

So  she  had  to  put  up  with  her  disappointment,  and 
she  did  not  do  so  with  as  good  a  grace  as  she  would 
have  shown  a  year  ago.  Nay,  she  carried  it  to  Queen 
Mary,  who  at  night  heard  her  gorgeous  description  of 
the  wonders  of  the  cavern,  which  grew  in  her  estima- 
tion in  proportion  to  the  difficulty  of  seeing  them,  and 
sympathised  with  her  disappointment  at  the  denial. 

"  Nay,  thou  shalt  not  be  balked,"  said  Mary,  with 
the  old  queenly  habit  of  having  her  own  way. 
"  Prisoner  as  I  am,  I  will  accomplish  this.  My 
daughter  shall  have  her  wish." 

So  on  the  ensuing  morning,  when  the  Earl  came  to 
pay  his  respects,  Mary  assailed  him  with,  "  There  is  a 
marvellous  cavern  in  these  parts,  my  Lord,  of  which  I 
hear  great  wonders." 

"  Does  your  grace  mean  Pool's  Hole  ?" 

"  Nay,  nay,  my  Lord.  Have  I  not  been  conducted 
through  it  by  Dr.  Jones,  and  there  writ  my  name  for 
his  delectation  ?  This  is,  I  hear,  as  a  palace  compared 
therewith." 

"  The  Peak  Cavern,  Madam  !"  said  Lord  Shrewsbury, 
with  the  distaste  of  middle  age  for  underground  expedi- 
tions, "  is  four  leagues  hence,  and  a  dark,  damp,  doleful 
den,  most  noxious  for  your  Grace's  rheumatism." 

"  Rave  you  ever  seen  it,  my  Lord  ?" 

"  No,  verily,"  returned  his  lordship  with  a  shudder. 

**  Then  you  will  be  edified  yourself,  my  Lord,  if  you 


208  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

will  do  me  the  grace  to  escort  me  thither,"  said  Mary, 
with  the  imperious  suavity  she  well  knew  how  to 
adopt. 

"  Madam,  madam,"  cried  the  unfortunate  Earl,  "  do 
but  consult  your  physicians.  They  will  tell  you  that  all 
the  benefits  of  the  Buxton  waters  will  be  annulled  by 
an  hour  in  yonder  subterranean  hole." 

"  I  have  h,eard  of  it  from  several  of  my  suite,"  re- 
plied Mary,  "  and  they  tell  me  that  the  work  of  nature 
on  the  lime-droppings  is  so  marvellous  that  I  shall  not 
rest  without  a  sight  of  it.  Many  have  been  instant 
with  me  to  go  and  behold  the  wondrous  place." 

This  was  not  untrue,  but  she  had  never  thought  of 
gratifying  them  in  her  many  previous  visits  to  Buxton. 
The  Earl  found  himself  obliged  either  to  utter  a  harsh 
and  uureasonable  refusal,  or  to  organise  an  expedition 
which  he  personally  disliked  extremely,  and  moreover 
distrusted,  for  he  did  not  in  the  least  believe  that 
Queen  Mary  would  be  so  set  upon  gratifying  her  curi- 
osity about  stalactites  without  some  ulterior  motive. 
He  tried  to  set  on  Dr.  Jones  to  persuade  Messieurs 
Gorion  and  Bourgoin,  her  medical  attendants,  that 
the  cave  would  be  fatal  to  her  rheumatism,  but  it  so 
happened  that  the  Peak  Cavern  was  Dr.  Jones's 
favourite  lion,  the  very  pride  of  his  heart.  Pool's  Hole 
was  dear  to  him,  but  the  Peak  Cave  was  far  more 
precious,  and  the  very  idea  of  the  Queen  of  Scots 
honouring  it  with  her  presence,  and  leaving  behind  her 
the  flavour  of  her  name,  was  so  exhilarating  to  the 
little  man  that  if  the  place  had  been  ten  times  more 
damp  he  would  have  vouched  for  its  salubrity.  More- 
over, he  undertook  that  fumigations  of  fragrant  woods 
should  remove  all  peril  of  noxious  exhalations,  so  that 
the    Earl  was   obliged   to   give    liis    orders   that  Mr. 


xvl]  the  peak  cavern.  209 

Eyre  should  be  requested  to  light  up  the  cave,  and 
heartily  did  he  grumble  and  pour  forth  his  suspicions 
and  annoyance  to  his  cousin  Eichard. 

"  And  1,"  said  tlie  good  sailor,  "  felt  it  hard  not  to 
be  able  to  tell  him  that  all  was  for  the  freak  of  a  silly 
damsel." 

Mistress  Cicely  laughed  a  little  triumphantly.  It 
was  something  like  being  a  Queen's  daughter  to  have 
been  the  cause  of  making  my  Lord  himself  bestir  him- 
self against  his  will.  She  had  her  own  way,  and 
miglit  well  be  good  -  humoured.  "  Come,  dear  sir 
father,"  she  said,  coming  up  to  him  in  a  coaxing, 
patronising  way,  which  once  would  have  been  quite 
alien  to  them  both,  "  be  not  angered.  You  know  no- 
body means  treason  !  And,  after  all,  'tis  not  I  but 
you  that  are  the  cause  of  all  the  turmoil.  If  you 
would  but  have  ridden  soberly  out  with  your  poor 
little  Cis,  there  would  have  been  no  coil,  but  my  Lord 
might  have  paced  stately  and  slow  up  and  down  the 
terrace-walk  undisturbed." 

"  Ah,  child,  child  ! "  said  Susan,  vexed,  though  her 
husband  could  not  help  smiling  at  the  arch  drollery  of 
the  girl's  tone  and  manner,  "  do  not  thou  learn  light 
mockery  of  all  that  should  be  honoured." 

"  I  am  not  bound  to  honour  the  Earl,"  said  Cis, 
proudly. 

"  Hush,  hush  ! "  said  Eichard.  "  I  have  allowed 
thee  unche-ksd  too  long,  maiden.  Wert  thou  ten 
times  what  thou  art,  it  would  not  give  thee  the  right 
to  mock  at  the  gray-haired,  highly-trusted  noble,  the 
head  of  the  neftne  thou  dost  bear," 

"  And  the  torment  of  her  whom  I  am  most  bound 
lo  love,"  broke  from  Cicely  petulantly. 

Eichard's  response  to  this  sally  was  to  rise  up, 
p 


210  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY  [CHAF 

make  the  young  lady  the  lowest  possible  reverence, 
with  extreme  and  displeased  gravity,  and  then  to  quit 
the  room.  It  brought  the  girl  to  her  bearings  at  once. 
"  Oil,  mother,  mother,  how  have  I  displeased  him  ?" 

"  I  trow  thou  canst  not  help  it,  child,"  said  Susan, 
sadly  ;  '"'  but  it  is  hard  that  thou  shouldst  bring  home 
to  us  how  thine  heart  and  thine  obedience  are  parted 
from  us." 

The  maiden  was  in  a  passion  of  tears  at  once, 
vowing  that  she  meant  no  such  thing,  that  she  loved 
and  obeyed  them  as  much  as  ever,  and  that  if  only 
her  father  would  forgive  her  she  would  never  wish  to 
go  near  the  cavern.  She  would  beg  the  Queen  to  give 
up  the  plan  at  once,  if  only  Sir  Eichard  would  be  her 
good  father  as  before. 

Susan  looked  at  her  sadly  and  tenderly,  but  smiled, 
and  said  that  what  had  been  lightly  begun  could  not 
now  be  dropped,  and  that  she  trusted  Cis  would  be 
happy  in  the  day's  enjoyment,  and  remember  to  be- 
have herself  as  a  discreet  maiden.  "  For  truly,"  said 
she,  "  so  far  from  discretion  being  to  be  despised  by 
Queen's  daughters,  the  higher  the  estate  the  greater  the 
need  thereof." 

This  little  breeze  did  not  prevent  Cicely  from  setting 
off  in  high  spirits,  as  she  rode  near  the  Queen,  who 
declared  that  she  wanted  to  enjoy  through  the  merry 
maiden,  and  who  was  herself  in  a  gay  and  joyous  mood, 
believing  that  the  term  of  her  captivity  was  in  sight, 
delighted  with  her  daughter,  exhilarated  by  the  fresh 
breezes  and  rapid  motion,  and  so  mirthful  that  she 
could  not  help  teasing  and  bantering  thfi  Earl  a  little, 
though  all  in  the  way  of  good-humoured  grace. 

The  ride  was  long,  about  eight  miles  ;  but  though  the 
Peak  Castle  was  a  royal  one,  the  Earl  preferred  not  tc 


XVI.]  THE  PEAK  CAVEEN.  211 

euter  it,  but,  according  to  previous  arrangement,  caused 
the  company  to  dismount  in  the  valley,  or  rather  ravine, 
which  terminates  in  the  cavern,  where  a  repast  was 
spread  on  the  grass.  It  was  a  wonderful  place,  cool  and 
refreshing,  for  the  huge  rocks  on  either  side  cast  a  deep 
shadow,  seldom  pierced  by  the  rays  of  the  sun.  Lofty, 
solemn,  and  rich  in  dark  reds  and  purples,  rose  the  walls 
of  rock,  here  and  there  softened  by  tapestry  of  ivy  or 
projecting  bushes  of  sycamore,  mountain  ash,  or  with 
fruit  already  assuming  its  brilliant  tints,  and  jack- 
daws Hying  in  and  out  of  their  holes  above.  Deep 
beds  of  rich  ferns  clothed  the  lower  slopes,  and  sheets 
of  that  delicate  llower,  the  enchanter's  nightshade, 
reared  its  white  blossoms  down  to  the  bank  of  a  little 
clear  stream  that  came  flowing  from  out  of  the  mighty 
yawning  arch  of  tlie  cavern,  while  above  the  precipice 
rose  sheer  the  keep  of  Peak  Castle. 

The  banquet  was  gracefully  arranged  to  suit  the 
scene,  and  comprised,  besides  more  solid  viands,  large 
bowls  of  milk,  with  strawberries  or  cranberries  floating 
in  them.  Mr.  Eyre,  the  keeper  of  the  castle,  and  his 
daughter  did  the  honours,  while  his  son  superintended 
tlie  lighting  and  fumigation  of  the  cavern,  assisted,  if 
not  directed  by  Dr.  Jones,  whose  short  black  cloak  and 
gold-headed  cane  were  to  be  seen  almost  everywhere 
at  once. 

Presently  clouds  of  smoke  began  to  issue  from  the 
vast  archway  that  closed  the  ravine.  "  Beware,  my 
maidens,"  said  the  Queen,  merrily,  "  we  have  roused 
the  dragon  in  his  den,  and  we  shall  see  him  come  forth 
anon,  curling  his  tail  and  belching  ilame." 

"  With  a  marvellous  stomach  for  a  dainty  maiden 
or  two,"  added  Gilbert  Curll,  falling  into  her  humour. 

"  Hark  !     Good  lack  ! "    cried  the  Queen,  with  an 


212  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOEY.  [CHAP. 

affectation  of  terror,  as  a  most  extraordinary  noise  pro- 
ceeded from  the  bowels  of  the  cavern,  making  Cis  start 
and  Marie  de  Courcelles  give  a  genuine  shriek. 

"  Your  Majesty  is  pleased  to  be  merry,"  said  the 
Earl,  ponderously.  "  The  sound  is  only  the  coughing 
of  the  torchbearers  from  the  damp  whereof  I  warned 
your  Majesty." 

"  By  my  faith,"  said  Mary,  "  I  believe  my  Lord 
Earl  himself  fears  the  monster  of  the  cavern,  to  whom 
he  gives  the  name  of  Damp.  Dread  nothing,  my 
Lord  ;  the  valorous  knight  Sir  Jones  is  even  now  in 
conflict  with  the  foul  worm,  as  those  cries  assure  me, 
being  in  fact  caused  by  his  fumigations." 

The  jest  was  duly  received,  and  in  the  midst  of  the 
laughter,  young  Eyre  came  forward,  bowing  low,  and 
holding  his  jewelled  hat  in  his  hand,  while  his  eyes 
betrayed  that  he  had  recently  been  sneezing  violently. 

"  So  please  your  Majesty,"  he  said,  "  the  odour  hath 
rolled  away,  and  all  is  ready  if  you  will  vouchsafe  to 
accept  my  poor  guidance." 

"  How  say  you,  my  Lord  ?"  said  ]\Iary.  "  Will  you 
dare  the  lair  of  the  conquered  foe,  or  fear  you  to  be 
pinched  with  aches  and  pains  by  his  lurking  hob- 
goblins ?     If  so,  we  dispense  with  your  attendance." 

"  Your  Majesty  knows  that  where  she  goes  thither 
I  am  bound  to  attend  her,"  said  the  rueful  Earl. 

"  Even  into  the  abyss  !  "  said  Mary.  "  Valiantly 
spoken,  for  have  not  Ariosto  and  his  fellows  sung  of 
captive  princesses  for  whom  every  cave  held  an  enchanter 
who  could  spirit  them  away  into  vapour  thin  as  air,  and 
leave  their  guardians  questing  in  vain  for  them  ? " 

"  Your  Majesty  jests  with  edged  tools,"  siglied  the 
Earl. 

Old  Mr.  Eyre  was  too  feeble  to  act  as  exhibitor  of 


XVI.]  THE  PEAK  CAVERN.  213 

the  cave,  and  his  son  was  deputed  to  lead  the  Queen 
forward.  This  was,  of  course.  Lord  Shrewsbury's  privi- 
lege, but  he  was  in  truth  beiioklen  to  her  fingers  for 
aid,  as  she  walked  eagerly  forward,  now  and  then 
accepting  a  little  help  from  John  Eyre,  but  in  general 
sure-footed  and  exploring  eagerly  by  the  light  of  the 
numerous  torches  held  by  yeomen  in  the  Eyre  livery, 
one  of  whom  was  stationed  wherever  there  was  a 
dangerous  pass  or  a  freak  of  nature  worth  studying. 

The  magnificent  vaulted  roof  grew  lower,  and  pre- 
sently it  became  necessary  to  descend  a  staircase,  which 
led  to  a  deep  hollow  chamber,  shaped  like  a  bell,  and 
echoing  like  one.  A  pool  of  intensely  black  water 
filled  it,  reflecting  the  lights  on  its  surface,  that  only 
enhanced  its  darkness,  while  there  moved  on  a  mys- 
terious flat-bottomed  boat,  breaking  them  into  shim- 
mering sparks,  and  John  Eyre  intimated  that  the 
visitors  must  lie  down  flat  in  it  to  be  ferried  one  by 
one  over  a  space  of  about  fourteen  yards. 

"  Your  Majesty  will  surely  not  attempt  it,"  said  the 
Earl,  with  a  shudder. 

"  Wherefore  not  ?  It  is  but  a  foretaste  of  Charon's 
boat ! "  said  Mary,  who  was  one  of  those  people  whose 
spirit  of  enterprise  rises  with  the  occasion,  and  she 
murmured  to  Mary  Seaton  the  line  of  Dante — 

"  Qiiando  noi  fermerem  li  nostri  passi 
Su  la  triste  riviera  a'  Acheronte." 

^  "  Will  your  Majesty  enter  ? "  asked  John  Eyre. 
"  Dr.  Jones  and  some  gentlemen  wait  on  the  other  side 
to  receive  you." 

"  Some  gentlemen  ?"  repeated  Mary.  '''  You  are  sure 
they  are  not  Minos  and  Rhadamanthus,  sir?  My 
obolus  is  ready ;  shall  I  put  it  in  my  mouth  ? " 

"  Xay,  madam,  pardon  me,"  said  the  Earl,  spuired 


214  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOKY.  [OHAP. 

by  a  miserable  sense  of  his  duties ;  "  since  you  will 
thus  venture,  far  be  it  from  me  to  let  you  pass  over 
until  I  have  reached  tlie  other  side  to  see  that  it  is  fit 
for  your  Majesty  !  " 

"Even  as  you  will,  most  devoted  cavalier,"  said 
Mary,  drawing  back ;  "  we  will  be  content  to  play  the 
part  of  the  pale  ghosts  of  the  unburied  dead  a  little 
longer.  See,  Mary,  the  boat  sinks  down  with  him  and 
his  mortal  flesh  !  We  shall  have  Charon  complaining 
of  him  anon." 

"  Your  Highness  gars  my  flesh  grue,"  was  the 
answer  of  her  faithful  Mary. 

"  Ah,  ma  mie  I  we  have  not  left  all  hope  behind. 
We  can  aftbrd  to  smile  at  the  doleful  knight,  ferried 
o'er  on  his  back,  in  duteous  and  loyal  submission  to 
his  task  mistress.  Child,  Cicely,  where  art  thou  ? 
Art  afraid  to  dare  the  black  river  ? " 

"  No,  madam,  not  with  you  on  the  other  side,  and 
my  father  to  follow  me." 

"  Well  said.  Let  the  maiden  follow  next  after  me. 
Or  mayhap  Master  Eyre  should  come  next,  then  the 
young  lady.  For  you,  my  ladies,  and  you,  good  sirs, 
you  are  free  to  follow  or  not,  as  the  fancy  stiikes  you. 
So — here  is  Charon  once  more — must  I  lie  down  ? " 

"Ay,  madam,"  said  Eyre,  "if  you  would  not  strike 
your  head  against  yonder  projecting  rock." 

Mary  lay  down,  her  cloak  drawn  about  her,  and 
saying,  "  Now  then,  for  Acheron.  Ah  !  would  that  it 
were  Lethe ! " 

"  Het  Grace  saith  well,"  muttered  faithful  Jean 
Kennedy,  unversed  in  classic  lore,  "  would  that  we 
were  once  more  at  bonuie  Leith.  Soft  there  udw,  'tis 
you  that  follow  her  next,  my  fair  mistress." 

Cicely,  not  without  trepidation,  obeyed,  laid  herself 


XVI. J  THE  PEAK  CAVERN.  215 

flat,  and  was  soon  midway,  feeling  the  passage  so  grim 
and  awful,  that  she  could  tliink  of  nothing  but  the 
dark  passages  of  the  grave,  and  was  shuddering  all 
over,  when  she  was  helped  out  on  the  other  side  by  the 
Queen's  own  hand. 

Some  of  those  in  the  rear  did  not  seem  to  be  simi- 
larly affected,  or  else  braved  their  feelings  of  awe  by 
shouts  and  songs,  which  echoed  fearfully  through  the 
subterranean  vaults.  Indeed  Diccon,  following  the 
example  of  one  or  two  young  pages  and  grooms  of 
the  Earl's,  began  to  get  so  daring  and  wild  in  the 
strange  scene,  that  his  father  became  anxious,  and 
tarried  for  him  on  the  other  side,  in  the  dread  of  his 
wandering  away  and  getting  lost,  or  falling  into  some 
of  the  fearful  dark  rivers  that  could  be  heard — not  seen 
— rushing  along.  By  this  means,  Master  Richard  was 
entirely  separated  from  Cicely,  to  whom,  before  crossing 
the  water,  he  had  been  watchfully  attending,  but  ho 
knew  her  to  be  with  the  Queen  and  her  ladies,  and  con- 
sidered her  natural  timidity  the  best  safeguard  against 
the  chief  peril  of  the  cave,  namely,  wandering  away. 

Cicely  did,  however,  miss  his  care,  for  the  Queen 
could  not  but  be  engrossed  by  her  various  cicerones 
and  attendants,  and  it  was  no  one's  especial  business 
to  look  after  the  young  girl  over  the  rough  descent  to 
the  dripping  well  called  Eoger  Rain's  House,  and  the 
grand  cathedral-like  gallery,  with  splendid  pillars  of 
stalagmite,  and  pendants  above.  By  the  time  the 
steps  beyond  were  reached,  a  toilsome  descent,  the 
Queen  had  had  enough  of  the  expedition,  and  declined 
to  go  any  farther,  but  she  good-naturedly  yielded  to. 
the  wish  of  Master  John  Eyre  and  Dr.  Jones,  that 
she  would  inscribe  her  name  on  the  farthest  column 
that  she  had  reached. 


216  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

There  was  a  little  confusion  while  this  was  being 
done,  as  some  of  the  more  enterprising  wished  to 
penetrate  as  far  as  possible  into  the  recesses  of  the 
cave,  and  these  were  allowed  to  pass  forward — Diccon 
and  his  father  among  them.  In  the  passing  and  re- 
passing, Cicely  entirely  lost  sight  of  all  who  had  any 
special  care  of  her,  and  went  stumbling  on  alone, 
weary,  frightened,  and  repenting  of  the  wilfulness  with 
which  she  had  urged  on  the  expedition.  Each  of 
the  other  ladies  had  some  cavalier  to  help  her,  but 
none  had  fallen  to  Cicely's  lot,  and  though,  to  an 
active  girl,  there  was  no  real  danger  where  the  torch- 
bearers  lined  the  way,  still  there  was  so  much  diffi- 
culty that  she  was  a  laggard  in  reaching  the  likeness 
of  Acheron,  and  could  see  no  father  near  as  she  laid 
herself  down  in  Charon's  dismal  boat,  dimly  rejoicing 
that  this  time  it  was  to  return  to  the  realms  of  day, 
and  yet  feeling  as  if  she  should  never  reach  them.  A 
hand  was  given  to  assist  her  from  the  boat  by  one  of 
the  torchbearers,  a  voice  strangely  familiar  was  in  her 
ears,  saying,  "  Mistress  Cicely  ! "  and  she  knew  the 
eager  eyes,  and  exclaimed  under  her  breath,  "  Anton y, 
you  here  ?      In  hiding?      What  liave  you  done?'' 

"  Nothing,"  he  answered,  smiling,  and  holding  her 
hand,  as  he  helped  her  forward.  "  I  only  put  on  this 
garb  that  I  might  gaze  once  more  on  the  most  divine 
and  persecuted  of  queens,  and  with  some  hope  likewise 
that  I  might  win  a  word  with  her  who  deigned  once 
to  be  my  playmate.  Lady,  I  know  the  truth  respecting 
you." 

"  Do  you  in  very  deed  ?"  demanded  Cicely,  consider- 
ably startled. 

"  I  know  your  true  name,  and  that  you  are  none  of 
the  mastiff  race,"  said  Antony. 


%vl]  the  peak  uavekn.  217 

"Did — did  Tibbott  tell  yon,  sir  ?"  asked  Cicely. 

"  You  are  one  of  us,"  said  Antony ;  "  bound  by 
uatural  allegiance  in  the  land  of  your  birth  to  this 
lady." 

"  Even  so,"  said  Cis,  here  becoming  secure  of  what 
she  had  before  doubted,  that  Babington  only  knew  half 
the  truth  he  referred  to, 

"  And  you  see  and  speak  with  her  privily,"  he 
added. 

"  As  Bess  Pierrepoint  did,"  said  she. 

These  words  passed  during  the  ascent,  and  were 
much  interrupted  by  the  difficulties  of  the  way,  in 
which  Antony  rendered  such  aid  that  she  was  each 
moment  more  impelled  to  trust  to  him,  and  relieved  to 
find  herself  in  such  familiar  hands.  On  reaching  the 
summit  the  light  of  day  could  be  seen  glimmering  in 
the  extreme  distance,  and  the  maiden's  heart  bounded 
at  the  sight  of  it ;  but  she  found  herself  led  some- 
what aside,  where  in  a  sort  of  side  aisle  of  the  great 
bell  chamber  were  standing  together  four  more  of  the 
torch-bearers. 

One  of  them,  a  slight  man,  made  a  step  forward 
and  said,  "  The  •Queen  hath  dropped  her  kerchief. 
Mayhap  the  young  gentlewoman  will  restore  it?" 

"She  will  do  more  than  that!"  said  Antony,  draw- 
ing her  into  the  midst  of  them.  "  Dost  not  know  her, 
Langston  ?  She  is  her  sacred  Majesty's  own  born,  true, 
and  faithful  subject,  the  Lady " 

"  Hush,  my  friend ;  thou  art  ever  over  outspoken 
with  thy  names,"  returned  the  other,  evidently  annoyed 
at  Babington's  imprudence. 

"  I  tell  thee,  she  is  one  of  us,"  replied  Antony 
impatiently.  "  How  is  the  Queen  to  know  of  her 
friends  if  we  name  them  not  to  her  ?" 


218  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

"Are  these  her  friends?"  asked  Cicely,  looking 
round  on  the  five  figures  in  the  leathern  coats  and 
yeomen's  heavy  buskins  and  shoes,  and  especially  at 
the  narrow  face  and  keen  pale  eyes  of  Langston. 

"  Ay,  verily,"  said  one,  whom  Cicely  could  see  even 
under  his  disguise  to  be  a  slender,  graceful  youth.  "  By 
John  Eyre's  favour  have  we  come  together  here  to 
gaze  on  the  true  and  lawful  mistress  of  our  hearts,  the 
champion  of  our  faith,  in  her  martyrdom."  Then 
taking  the  kerchief  from  Langston's  hand,  Babington 
kissed  it  reverently,  and  tore  it  into  five  pieces,  which 
he  divided  amoug  himself  and  his  fellows,  saying, 
"  This  fair  mistress  shall  bear  witness  to  her  sacred 
Majesty  that  we — Antony  Babington,  Cliidiock  Tich- 
borne,  Cuthbert  Langston,  John  Charnock,  John  Savage 
— regard  her  as  the  sole  and  lawful  Queen  of  England 
and  Scotland,  and  that  as  we  have  gone  for  her  sake 
into  the  likeness  of  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death, 
so  will  we  meet  death  itself  and  stain  this  linen  with 
our  best  heart's  blood  rather  than  not  bring  her  again 
to  freedom  and  the  throne !" 

Then  with  the  most  solemn  oath  each  enthusiastic- 
ally kissed  the  white  token,  and  pul»  it  in  his  breast, 
but  Langston  looked  with  some  alarm  at  the  girl,  and 
said  to  Babington,  "  Doth  this  young  lady  understand 
that  you  have  put  our  lives  into  her  hands  ?" 

"  She  knows  !  she  knows  !  I  answer  for  her  with 
my  life,"  said  Antony. 

"  Let  her  then  swear  to  utter  no  word  of  what  she 
has  seen  save  to  the  Queen,"  said  Langston,  and  Cicely 
detected  a  glitter  in  that  pale  eye,  and  with  a  horrified 
leap  of  thought,  recollected  how  easy  it  would  be  to  drag 
her  away  into  one  of  those  black  pools,  beyond  all  ken. 

"  Oh  save  me,  Antony !"  she  cried, clinging  to  his  arm. 


XVI.]  THE  PEAK  CAVERN.  219 

"  No  one  shall  touch  you.  I  will  guard  you  with 
ray  life  !"  exclaimed  the  impulsive  young  man,  feeling 
for  the  sword  that  was  not  there. 

"  Who  spoke  of  hurting  the  foolish  wench  ?"  growled 
Savage ;  but  Tichborne  said,  "  No  one  would  hurt 
you,  madam ;  but  it  is  due  to  us  all  that  you  should 
give  us  your  word  of  honour  not  to  disclose  what  has 
passed,  save  to  our  only  true  mistress." 

"  Oh  yes  !  yes  !"  cried  Cicely  hastily,  scarcely  know- 
ing what  passed  her  lips,  and  only  anxious  to  escape 
from  that  gleaming  eye  of  Langston,  which  had  twice 
before  filled  her  with  a  nameless  sense  of  the  necessity 
of  terrified  obedience.  "  Oh  !  let  me  go.  I  hear  my 
father's  voice." 

She  sprang  forward  with  a  cry  between  joy  and 
terror,  and  darted  up  to  Eichard  Talbot,  while  Savage, 
the  man  who  looked  most  entirely  unlike  a  disguised 
gentleman,  stepped  forward,  and  in  a  rough,  north 
country  dialect,  averred  that  the  young  gentlewoman 
had  lost  her  way. 

"  Poor  maid,"  said  kind  Eichard,  gathering  the  two 
trembling  little  hands  into  one  of  his  own  broad  ones. 
"  How  was  it  ?  Thanks,  good  fellow,"  and  he  dropped 
a  broad  piece  into  Savage's  palm ;  "  thou  hast  done 
good  service.     What,  Cis,  child,  art  quaking?" 

"  Hast  seen  any  hobgoblins,  Cis  ?"  said  Diccon,  at 
her  other  side.      "  I'm  sure  I  heard  them  laugh." 

"  Whist,  Dick,"  said  his  father,  putting  a  strong  arm 
round  the  girl's  waist.  "  See,  my  wench,  yonder  is  tlie 
goodly  liglit  of  day.      We  shall  soon  be  there." 

W^ith  all  his  fatherly  kindness,  he  helped  the  agi- 
tated girl  up  the  remaining  ascent,  as  the  lovely  piece 
of  blue  sky  between  the  retreating  rocks  grew  wider, 
and  the  archway  higher  above  them.     Cis  felt  that 


220  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

infinite  repose  and  reliance  that  none  else  could  give, 
yet  the  repose  was  disturbed  by  the  pang  of  recol- 
lection that  the  secret  laid  on  her  was  their  first 
severance.  It  was  unjust  to  his  kindness  ;  strange, 
doubtful,  nay  grisly,  to  her  foreboding  mind,  and  she 
shivered  alike  from  that  and  the  chill  of  the  damp 
cavern,  and  tiien  he  drew  her  cloak  more  closely  about 
her,  and  halted  to  ask  for  the  flask  of  wine  which  one 
of  the  adventurous  spirits  had  brought,  that  Queen 
Elizabeth's  health  might  be  drunk  by  her  true  subjects 
in  the  bowels  of  the  earth.  The  wine  M'as,  of  course, 
exhausted ;  but  Dr.  Jones  bustled  forward  with  some 
cordial  waters  which  he  had  provided  in  case  of  any- 
one being  struck  with  the  cliill  of  the  cave,  and  Cicely 
was  made  to  swallow  some. 

By  this  time  she  had  been  missed,  and  the  little 
party  were  met  by  some  servants  sent  by  the  Earl  at 
the  instance  of  the  much-alarmed  Queen  to  inquire  for 
her.  A  little  farther  on  came  Mistress  Talbot,  in  much 
anxiety  and  distress,  though  as  Diccon  ran  forward  to 
meet  her,  and  slie  saw  Cicely  on  her  husband's  arm, 
she  resumed  her  calm  and  staid  demeanour,  and  when 
assured  that  the  maiden  had  suffered  no  damage,  she 
made  no  special  demonstrations  of  joy  or  affection. 
Indeed,  such  would  have  been  deemed  unbecoming  in 
the  presence  of  strangers,  and  disrespectful  to  the 
Queen  and  the  Earl,  who  were  not  far  off. 

Mary,  on  the  other  hand,  started  up,  held  out  her 
arms,  received  the  truant  with  such  vehement  kisses, 
as  miglit  almost  have  betrayed  their  real  relationship, 
and  then  reproached  her,  with  all  sorts  of  endearing 
terms,  for  having  so  terrified  them  all;  nor  would  she  let 
the  girl  go  from  her  side,  and  kept  her  hand  in  her  own. 

Diccon  meanwhile  had  succeeded  in  securing  his 


XVI.]  THE  PEAK  CAVERN.  221 

father's  attention,  which  had  been  wholly  given  to 
Cicely  till  she  was  placed  in  the  women's  hands. 
"  Father,"  he  said,  "  I  wis  that  one  of  the  knaves  with 
the  torches  who  found  our  Cis  was  the  woman  with  the 
beads  and  bracelets,  ay,  and  Tibbott,  too." 

*  Belike,  belike,  my  son,"  said  Eichard.  "  There 
are  fol^  who  can  take  as  many  forms  as  a  barnacle 
goos3.  Keep  thou  a  sharp  eye  as  the  fellows  pass 
out,  and  pull  me  by  the  cloak  if  thou  seest  him." 

Of  course  he  was  not  seen,  and  Eichard,  who  was 
growing  more  and  more  cautious  about  bringing  vague 
or  half-proved  suspicions  before  his  Lord,  decided  to 
be  silent  and  to  watch,  though  he  sighed  to  his  wife 
that  the  poor  child  would  soon  be  in  the  web. 

Cis  had  not  failed  to  recognise  that  same  identity, 
and  to  feel  a  half-realised  conviction  that  the  Queen 
had  not  chosen  to  confide  to  her  that  the  two  female 
disguises  both  belonged  to  Langston.  Yet  the  con- 
trast between  Mary's  endea,rments  and  the  restrained 
manner  of  Susan  so  impelled  her  towards  the  veritable 
mother,  that  the  compunction  as  to  the  concealment 
she  had  at  first  experienced  passed  away,  and  her  heart 
felt  that  its  obligations  were  towards  her  veritable  and 
most  loving  parent.  She  told  the  Queen  the  whole 
story  at  night,  to  Mary's  great  delight.  She  said  she 
was  sure  her  little  one  had  something  on  her  mind,  she 
had  so  little  to  say  of  her  adventure,  and  the  next  day 
a  little  privy  council  was  contrived,  in  which  Cicely  was 
summoned  again  to  tell  lier  tale.  The  ladies  declared 
they  had  always  hoped  much  from  their  dailing  page,  in 
whom  they  had  kept  up  the  true  faith,  but  Sir  Andrew 
Melville  shook  his  head  and  said  :  "  I'd  misdoot  ony 
plot  where  the  little  finger  of  him  was.  What  garred 
the  silly  loon  call  in  the  young  leddy  ere  he  kenned 
whether  she  wad  keep  counsel  ?" 


222  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOKY.  [CHAP. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE    EBBING   WELL. 

Cicely's  thirst  for  adventures  had  re3eived  a  Check, 
but  the  Queen,  being  particularly  well  and  in  good 
spirits,  and  trusting  that  this  would  be  her  last  visit 
to  Buxton,  was  inclined  to  enterprise,  and  there  were 
long  rides  and  hawking  expeditions  on  the  moors. 

The  last  of  these,  ere  leaving  Buxton,  brought  the 
party  to  the  hamlet  of  Barton  Clough,  where  a  loose 
horseshoe  of  the  Earl's  caused  a  halt  at  a  little  wayside 
smithy.  Mary,  always  friendly  and  free-spoken,  asked 
for  a  draught  of  water,  and  entered  into  conversation 
with  the  smith's  rosy-cheeked  wile  who  brought  it  to 
her,  and  said  it  was  sure  to  be  good  and  pure  for  the 
stream  came  from  the  Ebbing  and  Flowing  Well,  and 
she  pointed  up  a  steep  path.  Then,  on  a  further 
question,  she  proceeded,  "  Has  her  ladyship  never 
heard  of  the  Ebbing  Well  that  shows  whether  true 
love  is  soothfast  ? " 

"  How  so  ? "  asked  the  Queen.  "  How  precious 
such  a  test  might  be.  It  would  save  many  a  maiden 
a  broken  heart,  only  that  the  poor  fools  would  ne'er 
trust  it." 

"  I  have  heard  of  it,"  said  the  Earl,  "  and  Dr.  Jones 
would    demonstrate   to   your   Grace  that  it  is  but  a 


xvil]  the  ebbing  well.  223 

superstition  of  tlie  vulgar  regarding  a  natur?*.!  pheno- 
menon." 

"  Yea,  my  Lord,"  said  the  smith,  looking  up  from 
the  horse's  lout ;  "  'tis  the  trade  of  yonder  philosopliers 
to  gainsay  whatever  honest  folk  believed  before  them. 
They'll  deny  next  that  hens  lay  eggs,  or  blight  rots 
wheat.  My  good  wife  speaks  but  plain  truth,  and  we 
have  seen  it  o'er  and  o'er  again." 

"What  have  you  seen,  good  man?"  asked  Mary 
eagerly,  and  ready  answer  was  made  by  the  couple, 
who  had  acquired  some  cultivation  of  speech  and 
manners  by  their  wayside  occupation,  and  likewise  as 
cicerones  to  the  spring. 

"  Seen,  quoth  the  lady  ?"  said  the  smith,  "  Why, 
he  that  is  a  true  man  and  hath  a  true  maid  can  quaff 
a  draught  as  deep  as  his  gullet  can  hold — or  she  that 
is  true  and  hath  a  true  love — but  let  one  who  hath  a 
flaw  in  the  metal,  on  the  one  side  or  t'other,  stoop  to 
drink,  and  the  water  shrinks  away  so  as  there's  not 
the  moistening  of  a  lip." 

"  Ay  :  the  ladies  may  laugh/'  added  his  wife,  "  but 
'tis  soothfast  for  all  that." 

"Hast  proved  it,  good  dame?"  asked  the  Queen 
archly,  for  the  pair  were  still  young  and  well-looking 
enough  to  be  jested  with. 

"Ay!  have  we  not,  madam?"  said  the  dame. 
"  Was  not  my  man  yonder,  Eob,  the  tinker's  son,  whom 
my  father  and  brethren,  the  smiths  down  yonder  at 
Buxton,  thought  but  scorn  of,  but  we'd  taken  a  sup 
together  at  the  Eb1)ing  Well,  and  it  played  neither  (f  us 
false,  so  we  held  out  against  'em  all,  and  when  they  saw 
there  was  no  help  for  it,  they  gave  Eob  the  second 
best  anvil  and  bellows  for  my  portion,  and  here  we 
be." 


224  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CIIAP. 

"  Living  witnesses  to  the  Well,"  said  the  Queen 
merrily.  "  How  say  you,  my  Lord  ?  I  would  fain  see 
this  marvel.     Master  Cuill,  will  you  try  the  venture  ?" 

"I  fear  it  not,  madam,"  said  the  secretary,  looking 
at  the  blushing  Barbara. 

Objections  did  not  fail  to  arise  from  the  Earl  as  to 
the  difiiculties  of  the  path  and  the  lateness  of  the  hour, 
but  Eob  Smith,  perhaps  wilfully,  discovered  another 
of  my  Lord's  horseshoes  to  be  in  a  perilous  state, 
and  his  good  wife.  Dame  Emmott,  offered  to  conduct 
the  ladies  by  so  good  a  path  that  they  might  think 
themselves  on  the  Queen's  Walk  at  Buxton  itself. 

Lord  Shrewsbury,  finding  himself  a  prisoner,  was 
obliged  to  yield  compliance,  and  leaving  Sir  Andrew 
Melville,  with  the  grooms  and  falconers,  in  charge  of 
the  horses,  the  Queen,  the  Earl,  Cicely,  Mary  Seaton, 
Barbara  Mowbray,  the  two  secretaries,  and  Bichard 
Talbot  and  young  Diccon,  started  on  the  walk,  to- 
gether with  Dr.  Bourgoin,  her  physician,  who  was 
eager  to  investigate  the  curiosity,  and  make  it  a  sub- 
ject of  debate  with  Dr.  Jones. 

The  path  was  a  beautiful  one,  through  rocks  and 
brushwood,  mountain  ash  bushes  showing  their  coral 
berries  amid  their  feathery  leaves,  golden  and  white 
stars  of  stonecrop  studding  every  coign  of  vantage, 
and  in  more  level  spots  the  waxy  bell-heather  begin- 
ning to  come  into  blossom.  Still  it  was  rather  over 
praise  to  call  it  as  smooth  as  the  carefully-levelled 
and  much-trodden  Queen's  path  at  Buxton,  considering 
that  it  ascended  steeply  all  the  way,  and  made  the 
solemn,  nmch-enduring  Earl  pant  for  breath ;  but  the 
Queen,  her  rheumatics  ibr  the  time  entirely  in  abey- 
ance, bounded  on  with  the  mountain  step  learned  in 
early  childhood,  and  closely  followed  the  brisk  Em- 


XVII.]  THE  EBBING  WELL.  225 

mott.  The  last  ascent  was  a  steep  pull,  taking  away 
the  disposition  to  speak,  and  at  its  summit  Mary  stood 
still  holding  out  one  hand,  with  a  finger  of  the  other 
on  her  lips  as  a  sign  of  silence  to  the  rest  of  the 
suite  and  to  Emmott,  who  stood  flushed  and  angered ; 
for  what  she  esteemed  her  lawful  province  seemed  to 
have  been  invaded  from  the  other  side  of  the  country. 

They  were  on  the  side  of  the  descent  from  the 
moorlands  connected  with  the  Peak,  on  a  small 
esplanade  in  the  midst  of  which  lay  a  deep  clear 
pool,  with  nine  small  springs  or  fountains  discharging 
themselves,  under  fern  and  wild  rose  or  honeysuckle, 
into  its  basin.  Steps  had  been  cut  in  the  rock  lead- 
ing to  the  verge  of  the  pool,  and  on  the  lowest  of 
these,  with  his  back  to  the  new-comers,  was  kneeling 
a  young  man,  his  brown  head  bare,  his  shoit  cloak  laid 
aside,  so  that  his  well-knit  form  could  be  seen ;  the 
sword  and  spurs  that  clanked  against  the  rock,  as  well 
as  the  whole  fashion  and  texture  of  his  riding-dress, 
showing  him  to  be  a  gentleman. 

"  We  shall  see  the  venture  made,"  whispered  Mary 
to  her  daughter,  who,  in  virtue  of  youth  and  lightness 
of  foot,  had  kept  close  behind  her.  Grasping  the  girl's 
arm  and  smiling,  she  heard  the  young  man's  voice  cry 
aloud  to  the  echoes  of  the  rock,  "  Cis !"  then  stoop 
forward  and  plunge  face  and  head  into  the  clear  trans- 
lucent water. 

"Good  luck  to  a  true  lover!"  smiled  the  Queen. 
"  What !  starting,  silly  maid  ?  Cisses  are  plenty  in  these 
parts  as  rowan  berries." 

"  Nay,  but "  gasped  Cicely,  for  at  that  moment 

the  young  man,  rising  from  his  knees,  his  face  still 
shining  with  the  water,  looked  up  at  his  unsuspected 
spectators.     An  expression  of  astonishment  and  ecstasy 

Q 


226  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

lighted  lip  his  honest  sunburnt  countenance  as  Master 
Eichard,  who  had  just  succeeded  in  dragging  the  portly 
Earl  up  the  steep  path,  met  his  gaze.  He  threw  up 
his  arms,  made  apparently  but  one  bound,  and  was 
kneeling  at  the  captain's  feet,  embracing  his  knees. 

"  My  son  !  Humfrey !  Thyself  ! "  cried  Eichard. 
"  See  !  see  what  presence  we  are  in." 

"  Your  blessing,  father,  first,"  cried  Humfrey,  "  ere 
I  can  see  aught  else." 

And  as  Eichard  quickly  and  thankfully  laid  his 
hand  on  the  brow,  so  much  fairer  than  the  face,  and 
then  held  his  son  for  one  moment  in  a  close  embrace, 
with  an  exchange  of  the  kiss  that  was  not  then  only 
a  foreign  fashion.  Queen  and  Earl  said  to  one  another 
with  a  sigh,  that  happy  was  the  household  where  the 
son  had  no  eyes  for  any  save  his  father. 

Mary,  however,  must  have  found  it  hard  to  con- 
tinue her  smiles  when,  after  due  but  hurried  obeisance 
to  her  and  to  his  feudal  chief,  Humfrey  turned  to  the 
little  figure  beside  her,  all  smiling  with  startled  shyness, 
and  in  one  moment  seemed  to  swallow  it  up  in  a  huge 
overpowering  embrace,  fraternal  in  the  eyes  of  almost 
all  the  spectators,  but  not  by  any  means  so  to  those 
of  Mary,  especially  after  the  name  she  had  heard. 
Diccon's  greeting  was  the  next,  and  was  not  quite  so 
visibly  rapturous  on  the  part  of  the  elder  brother,  who 
explained  that  he  had  arrived  at  Sheffield  yesterday, 
and  finding  no  one  to  welcome  him  but  little  Edward, 
had  set  forth  for  Buxton  almost  with  daylight,  and 
having  found  himself  obliged  to  rest  his  horse,  he  had 

turned  aside  to .     And  here  he  recollected  just  iu 

time  that  Cis  was  in  every  one's  eyes  save  his  father's, 
his  own  sister,  and  lamely  concluded  "to  take  a 
draught  of  water,"  blushing  under  his  brown  skin  as 


xvil]  the  ebbing  well.  227 

he  spoke.  Poor  fellow !  the  Queen,  even  while  she 
wished  him  in  the  farthest  West  Indian  isle,  could  not 
help  understanding  that  strange  doubt  and  dread  tliat 
come  over  the  mind  at  the  last  moment  before  a 
longed-for  meeting,  and  which  had  made  even  the  bold 
young  sailor  glad  to  rally  his  hopes  by  this  divination. 
Fortunately  she  thought  only  herself  and  one  or  two 
of  the  foremost  had  heard  the  name  he  gave,  as  was 
proved  by  the  Earl's  good-humoured  laugh,  as  he  said, 

"  A  draught,  quotha  ?  We  understand  that,  young 
sir.      And  who  may  this  your  true  love  be  ?" 

"  That  I  hope  soon  to  make  known  to  your  Lord- 
ship," returned  Humfrey,  with  a  readiness  which  he 
certainly  did  not  possess  before  his  voyage. 

The  ceremony  was  still  to  be  fulfilled,  and  the 
smith's  wife  called  them  to  order  by  saying,  •  Good 
luck  to  the  young  gentleman.  He  is  a  stranger  here, 
or  he  would  have  known  he  should  have  come  up  by 
our  path  !     Will  you  try  the  well,  your  Grace  ? " 

"  Nay,  nay,  good  woman,  my  time  for  such  .toys  is 
over !"  said  the  Queen  smiling,  "  but  moved  by  such 
an  example,  here  are  others  to  make  the  venture. 
Master  Curll  is  burning  for  it,  I  see." 

"  I  fear  no  such  trial,  an't  please  your  Grace,"  said 
Curll,  bowing,  with  a  bright  defiance  of  the  water,  and 
exchanging  a  confident  smile  with  the  blushing  Mistress 
Barbara — then  kneeling  by  the  well,  and  uttering  her 
name  aloud  ere  stooping  to  drink.  He  too  succeeded 
in  obtaining  a  full  drauglit,  and  came  up  triumpliantly. 

"  The  water  is  a  flatterer !"  said  the  Earl.  "  It 
favours  all." 

The  French  secretary,  Monsieur  Nan,  here  came  for- 
ward and  took  his  place  on  the  steps.  No  one  heard, 
but  every  one  knew  the  word  he  spoke  was  "  Bessie,"  for 


228  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAF 

Elizabetli  Pierrepoint  had  long  been  the  oliject  of  his 
affections.  No  doubt  he  hoped  that  he  should  obtain 
some  encouragement  from  the  water,  even  while  he 
gave  a  little  laugh  of  affected  incredulity  as  tliough 
only  complying  with  a  form  to  amuse  the  Queen. 
Down  he  went  on  his  knees,  bending  over  the  pool, 
when  behold  he  could  not  reach  it !  The  streams  that 
fed  it  were  no  longer  issuing  from  the  rock,  the  water 
was  subsiding  rapidly.  The  farther  he  stooped,  the 
more  it  retreated,  till  he  had  almost  fallen  over,  and 
the  guide  screamed  out  a  note  of  warning,  "  Have  a 
care,  sir !  If  the  water  flees  you,  flee  it  will,  and  ye'll 
not  mend  matters  by  drowning  yourself." 

How  he  was  to  be  drowned  by  water  that  fled  from 
him  was  not  clear,  but  with  a  muttered  malediction  he 
arose  and  glanced  round  as  if  he  thought  the  mortifi- 
cation a  trick  on  the  part  of  the  higher  powers,  since 
the  Earl  did  not  think  him  a  match  for  the  Countess's 
grandchild,  and  the  Queen  had  made  it  known  to  him 
that  she  considered  Bess  Pierrepoint  to  have  too  much 
of  her  grandmother's  conditions  to  be  likely  to  be  a 
good  wife.  There  was  a  laugh  too,  scarce  controlled 
by  some  of  the  less  well-mannered  of  the  suite,  especi- 
ally as  the  Earl,  wishing  to  punish  his  presumption, 
loudly  set  the  example. 

There  was  a  pause,  as  the  discomfited  secretary 
came  back,  and  the  guide  exclaimed,  "Come,  my  masters, 
be  not  daunted !  Will  none  of  you  come  on  ?  Hath  none 
of  you  faith  in  your  love  ?      Oh,  fie  !" 

"  We  are  married  men,  good  women,"  said  Pti chard, 
hoping  to  put  an  end  to  the  scene,  "  and  thus  can 
laugh  at  your  well" 

"  But  will  not  these  pretty  ladies  tiy  it  ?  It  speaka 
as  sooth  to  lass  as  to  lad." 


XVII.]  THE  EBBING  WELL.  229 

"  I  am  ready,"  said  Barbara  Mowbray,  as  Cuiil 
gave  her  his  hand  to  bound  lightly  down  the  steps. 
And  to  the  general  amazement,  no  sooner  had  "  Gilbert " 
echoed  from  her  lips  than  the  fountains  again  burst 
forth,  the  water  rose,  and  she  had  no  difficulty  in 
reaching  it,  while  no  one  could  help  bursting  forth  in 
applause.  Her  Gilbert  fervently  kissed  the  hand  she 
gave  him  to  aid  her  steps  up  the  slope,  and  Dame 
Emmott,  in  triumphant  congratulation,  scanned  them 
over  and  exclaimed,  "  Ay,  trust  the  well  for  knowing 
true  sweetheart  and  true  maid.  Come  you  next,  fair 
mistress  ?"  Poor  Mary  Seaton  shook  her  head,  with 
a  look  that  the  kindly  woman  understood,  and  she 
turned  towards  Cicely,  who  had  a  girl's  unthinking 
impulse  of  curiosity,  and  had  already  put  her  hand 
into  Humfrey's,  when  his  father  exclaimed,  "  Nay,  nay, 
the  maid  is  yet  too  young  !"  and  the  Queen  added, 
"  Come  back,  thou  silly  little  one,  these  tests  be  not 
for  babes  like  thee." 

She  was  forced  to  be  obedient,  but  she  pouted  a 
little  as  she  was  absolutely  held  fast  by  Eicllard 
Talbot's  strong  hand.  Humfrey  was  disappointed  too  ; 
but  all  was  bright  with  him  just  then,  and  as  the  party 
turned  to  make  the  descent,  he  said  to  her,  •'  It  matters 
not,  little  Cis  !  I'm  sure  of  thee  with  the  water  or 
without,  and  after  all,  thou  couldst  but  have  whispered 
my  name,  till  my  father  lets  us  speak  all  out  !" 

They  were  too  much  hemmed  in  by  other  people 
for  a  private  word,  and  a  little  mischievous  banter  was 
going  on  with  Sir  Andrew  Melville,  who  was  supposed 
to  have  a  grave  elderly  courtship  with  Mistress  Ken- 
nedy. Humfrey  was  left  in  the  absolute  bliss  of 
ignorance,  while  the  old  habit  and  instinct  of  joy  and 
gladness   in  his  presence   reafiserted  itself  in  Cis,  so 


230  UNKNOWN  TO  K2ST0RY.  [CHAP. 

that,  as  he  handed  her  down  the  rocks,  she  answered 
in  the  old  tone  all  his  inquiries  about  his  mother, 
and  all  else  that  concerned  them  at  home,  Diccon 
meantime  risking  his  limbs  by  scrambling  outside 
the  path,  to  keep  abreast  of  his  brother,  and  to  put  in 
his  word  whenever  he  could. 

On  reaching  the  smithy,  Humfrey  had  to  go  round 
another  way  to  fetch  his  horse,  and  could  hardly  hope 
to  come  up  with  the  rest  before  they  reached  Buxton. 
His  brother  was  spared  to  go  with  him,  but  his  father 
was  too  important  a  part  of  the  escort  to  be  spared. 
So  Cicely  rode  near  the  Queen,  and  heard  no  more 
except  the  Earl's  version  of  Dr.  Jones's  explanation  of 
the  intermitting  spring.  They  reached  home  only  just 
in  time  to  prepare  for  supper,  anil  the  two  youths 
appeared  almost  simultaneously,  so  that  Mistress  Tal- 
bot, sitting  at  her  needle  on  the  broad  terrace  in  front 
of  the  Earl's  lodge,  beheld  to  her  amazement  and 
delight  the  figure  that,  grown  and  altered  as  it  was, 
she  recognised  in  an  instant.  In  another  second 
Humfrey  had  sprung  from  his  horse,  rushed  up  the 
steps,  he  knew  not  how,  and  the  Queen,  with  tears 
trembling  in  her  eyes  was  saying,  "  iVh,  JMelville  !  see 
how  sons  meet  their  mothers  !" 

The  great  clock  was  striking  seven,  a  preposterously 
late  hour  for  supper,  and  etiquette  ^\■as  stronger  than 
sentiment  or  perplexity.  Every  one  hastened  to  as- 
sume an  evening  toilette,  for  a  riding-dress  would  have 
been  an  insult  to  the  Earl,  and  the  bell  soon  clanged 
to  call  them  down  to  their  places  in  the  hall.  Even 
Humfrey  had  brought  in  his  cloak-hag  wherewithal 
to  make  himself  presentable,  ai/d  soon  appeared,  a  well- 
knit  and  active  figure,  in  a  plain  dark  blue  jerkin,  with 
white  slashes,  and   long  hose  knitted  by  his  motlier's 


XVII.]  THE  EBBING  WELL.  231 

dainty  fingers,  and  well-preserved  shoes  with  blue 
rosettes,  and  a  flat  blue  velvet  cap,  with  an  exquisite 
black  and  sapphire  feather  in  it  fastened  by  a  curious 
brooch.  His  hair  was  so  short  that  its  naturally  strong 
curl  could  hardly  be  seen,  his  ruddy  sunburnt  face 
.  could  hardly  be  called  handsome,  but  it  was  full  of 
frankness  and  intelligence,  and  beaming  with  honest 
joy,  and  close  to  him  moved  little  Diccon,  hardly  able 
to  repress  his  ecstasy  within  company  bounds,  and  let- 
ting it  find  vent  in  odd  little  gestures,  wriggling  with 
his  body,  playing  tunes  on  his  knee,  or  making  dancing- 
steps  with  his  feet. 

Lord  Shrewsbury  welcomed  his  young  kinsman  as 
one  who  had  grown  from  a  mere  boy  into  a  sturdy  and 
effective  supporter.  He  made  the  new-comer  sit  near 
him,  and  asked  many  questions,  so  that  Humfrey  was 
the  chief  speaker  all  supper  time,  with  here  and  there 
a  note  from  his  father,  the  only  person  who  had  made 
the  same  voyage.  All  heard  with  eager  interest  of  the 
voyage,  the  weeds  in  the  Gulf  Stream,  the  stiange 
birds  and  fishes,  of  Walter  Ealeigh's  Virginian  colony 
and  its  ill  success,  of  the  half-starved  men  whom  Sir 
Richard  Grenville  had  found  only  too  ready  to  leave 
Roanoake,  of  dark-skinned  Indians,  of  chases  of  Spanish 
ships,  of  the  Peak  of  Teneriffe  rising  white  from  the 
waves,  of  phosphorescent  seas,  of  storms,  and  of  shark- 
catching. 

Supper  over,  the  audience  again  gathered  round  the 
young  traveller,  a  perfect  fountain  of  various  and  won- 
derful information  to  those  who  had  for  the  most  part 
never  seen  a  book  of  travels.  He  narrated  simply  and 
well,  without  his  boyish  shy  embarrassment  and  awk- 
wardness, and  likewise,  as  his  lather  alone  could  judge, 
without  boasting,  though,  if  to  no  one  else,  to  Diccon 


232  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOKY.  [CHAP. 

and  Cis,  listening  with  wide  open  eyes,  he  seemed  a 
hero  of  heroes.  In  the  midst  of  his  narration  a  message 
came  that  the  Queen  of  Scots  requested  the  presence  of 
Mistress  Cicely.  Humfrey  stared  in  discomfiture,  and 
asked  when  she  would  return. 

"  Not  to-night,"  faltered  the  girl,  and  the  mother 
added,  for  the  benefit  of  the  bystanders,  "  For  lack  of 
other  ladies  of  the  household,  much  service  hath  of  late 
fallen  to  Cicely  and  myself,  and  she  shares  the  Queen's 
chamber." 

Humfrey  had  to  submit  to  exchange  good-nights 
with  Cicely,  and  she  made  her  way  less  willingly  than 
usual  to  the  apartments  of  the  Queen,  who  was  being 
made  ready  for  her  bed.  "  Here  comes  our  truant," 
she  exclaimed  as  the  maiden  entered.  "  I  sent  to  rescue 
thee  from  the  western  seafarer  who  had  clawed  thee 
in  his  tarry  clutch.  Thou  didst  act  the  sister's  part 
passing  well.  I  hear  my  Lord  and  all  his  meind  have 
been  sitting,  open-mouthed,  hearkening  to  his  tales  of 
savages  and  cannibals." 

"  0  madam,  he  told  us  of  such  lovely  isles,"  said 
Cis.  "  The  sea,  he  said,  is  blue,  bluer  than  we  can 
conceive,  with  white  waves  of  dazzling  surf,  breaking 
on  islands  fringed  with  white  shells  and  coral,  and 
with  palms,  their  tops  like  the  biggest  ferns  in  the 
brake,  and  laden  with  red  golden  fruit  as  big  as 
goose  eggs.  And  the  birds  !  0  madam,  my  mother, 
the  birds  !  They  are  small,  small  as  our  butterflies 
and  beetles,  and  they  hang  hovering  and  quivering 
over  a  flower  so  that  Humfrey  thought  they  were 
moths,  for  he  saw  nothing  but  a  whizzing  and  a  wliirr- 
ing  till  he  smote  the  pretty  thing  dead,  and  then  he 
said  that  I  should  have  wept  for  pity,  for  it  was  a 
little  bird  with  a  long  bill,  and  a  breast  that  shines 


xvil]  the  ebbing  well.  233 

red  in  one  light,  purple  in  another,  and  flame-coloured 
in  a  third.  He  has  brought  home  the  little  skin  and 
feathers  of  it  for  me." 

"  Thou  hast  supped  full  of  travellers'  tales,  my 
simple  child." 

"  Yea,  madam,  but  my  Lord  listened,  and  made 
Humfrey  sit  beside  him,  and  made  much  of  him — my 
Lord  himself  !  I  would  fain  bring  him  to  you,  madam. 
It  is  so  wondrous  to  hear  him  tell  of  the  Eed  Men 
with  crowns  of  feathers  and  belts  of  beads.  Such 
gentle  savages  they  be,  and  their  chiefs  as  courteous 
and  stately  as  any  of  our  princes,  and  yet  those  cruel 
Spaniards  make  them  slaves  and  force  them  to  dig  in 
mines,  so  that  they  die  and  perish  under  their  hands." 

"  And  better  so  than  that  they  should  not  come  to 
the  knowledge  of  the  faith,"  said  Mary. 

"I  forgot  that  your  Grace  loves  the  Spaniards/ 
said  Cis,  much  in  the  tone  in  which  she  might  have 
spoken  of  a  taste  in  her  Grace  for  spiders,  adders,  or 
any  other  noxious  animal. 

"  One  day  my  child  will  grow  out  of  her  little 
heretic  prejudices,  and  learn  to  love  her  mother's  staunch 
friends,  the  champions  of  Holy  Church,  and  the  repre- 
sentatives of  true  knighthood  in  tliese  degenerate  days. 
Ah,  child  !  couldst  thou  but  see  a  true  Spanish  cabal- 
lero,  or  again,  could  I  but  show  thee  my  noble  cousin  of 
Guise,  then  wouldst  thou  know  how  to  rate  these  gross 
clownish  English  mastiffs  who  now  turn  thy  silly  little 
brain.     Ah,  that  thou  couldst  once  meet  a  true  prince  !" 

"  The  well,"  murmured  Cicely. 

"  Tush,  child,"  said  the  Queen,  amused.  "  What 
of  that  ?  Thy  name  is  not  Cis,  is  it  ?  'Tis  only  the 
slough  that  serves  thee  for  the  nonce.  The  good  youth 
will  find  himself  linked  to  some  homely,  housewifely 


234  UNKNOWN  TO  HlSTOIiY.  [CHAP. 

Cis  in  clue  time,  when  the  Princess;  Bride  is  queening 
it  in  France  or  Austria,  and  will  own  that  the  well  was 
wiser  than  he." 

Poor  Cis  !  If  her  inmost  heart  declared  Humfrey 
Talbot  to  be  prince  enough  for  her,  she  durst  not  enter- 
tain the  sentiment,  not  knowing  whether  it  were  un- 
worthy, and  while  Marie  de  Courcelles  read  aloud  a 
French  legend  of  a  saint  to  soothe  the  Queen  to  sleep, 
she  lay  longing  after  the  more  sympathetic  mother,  and 
wondering  what  was  passing  in  the  hall. 

Eichard  Talbot  had  communed  with  his  wife's  eyes, 
and  made  up  his  mind  that  Humfrey  should  know  the 
full  truth  before  the  Queen  should  enjoin  his  being  put 
off  with  the  story  of  the  parentage  she  had  invented 
for  Bride  Hepburn ;  and  while  some  of  the  gentlemen 
followed  their  habit  of  sitting  late  over  the  wine  cup, 
he  craved  their  leave  to  have  his  son  to  himself  a  little 
while,  and  took  him  out  in  the  summer  twilight  on  the 
greensward,  going  through  the  guards,  for  whom  he,  as 
the  gentleman  warder,  had  the  password  of  the  night. 
In  compliment  to  the  expedition  of  the  day  it  had  been 
made  "  True  love  and  the  Flowing  Well."  It  sounded 
agreeable  in  Humfrey's  ears;  he  repeated  it  again,  and 
then  added  "  Little  Cis  !  she  hath  come  to  woman's 
estate,  and  she  hath  caught  some  of  the  captive  lady's 
pretty  tricks  of  the  head  and  hands.  How  long  hath 
she  been  so  thick  with  her?" 

"  Since  this  journey.  I  have  to  speak  wdtli  thee,  my 
son." 

"  I  wait  your  pleasure,  sir,"  said  Humfrey,  and  as 
his  father  paused  a  moment  ere  communicating  his 
strange  tidings,  he  rendered  the  matter  less  easy  by 
saying,  "  I  guess  your  purpose.  If  I  may  at  once  wed 
my  little  Cis  I  will  send  word  to  Sir  John  Norreys  that 


XVII.]  THE  EBBING  WELL.  235 

I  am  not  for  this  expedition  to  the  Low  Coiintrieo, 
though  there  is  good  and  manly  work  to  be  done  there, 
and  I  have  the  offer  of  a  command,  but  I  gave  not 
my  word  till  I  knew  your  will,  and  whether  we  might 
wed  at  once." 

"  Thou  hast  much  to  hear,  my  son." 

"  Nay,  surely  no  one  has  come  between ! "  ex- 
claimed Humfrey.  "  Methought  she  was  less  frank 
and  more  coy  than  of  old.  If  that  sneaking  traitor 
Babington  hath  been  making  up  to  her  I  will  slit  his 
false  gullet  for  him." 

"  Hush,  hush,  Humfrey  !  thy  seafaring  boasts  skill 
not  here.  No  7nan  hath  come  between  thee  and 
yonder  poor  maid." 

"  Poor !  You  mean  not  that  she  is  sickly.  Were 
she  so,  I  would  so  tend  her  that  she  should  be  well  for 
mere  tenderness.  But  no,  she  was  the  very  image  of 
health.  No  man,  said  you,  father  ?  Then  it  is  a 
woman.  Ah  !  my  Lady  Countess  is  it,  bent  on  making 
her  match  her  own  way  ?  Sir,  you  are  too  good  and 
upright  to  let  a  tyrannous  dame  like  that  sever 
between  us,  though  she  be  near  of  kin  to  us.  My 
mother  might  scruple  to  cross  her,  but  you  have  seen 
the  world,  sir." 

"  My  lad,  you  are  right  in  that  it  is  a  woman  who 
stands  between  you  and  Cis,  but  it  is  not  the  Countess. 
None  would  have  the  right  to  do  so,  save  the  maiden's 
own  mother." 

"  Her  mother  !  You  have  discovered  her  lineage  ! 
Can  she  have  ought  against  me  ? — I,  your  son,  sir,  of 
the  Talbot  blood,  and  not  ill  endowed  ?" 

"  Alack,  son,  the  Talbot  may  be  a  good  dog,  but  the 
lioness  will  scarce  esteem  him  her  mate,  Eiddlea 
apart,  it  is  proved  beyond  question  that  our  little  maid 


236  UNKNOVO  TO  HISTORY.  [rHAP. 

is  of  Lii'th  as  high  as  it  is  unhappy.  Thou  canst  be 
secret,  I  know,  Humfrey,  and  thou  must  be  silent  as 
tlie  grave,  f  jr  it  touches  my  honour  and  the  poor  child's 
liberty." 

"  Who  is  she,  tlien  ?"  demanded  Humfrey  sharply. 

His  father  pointed  to  the  Queen's  window.  Hum- 
frey stared  at  him,  and  muttered  an  ejaculation,  then 
exclaimed,  "How  and  when  was  this  known?" 

Eichard  went  over  the  facts,  giving  as  few  names 
as  possible,  while  his  son  stood  looking  down  and 
drawing  lines  with  the  point  of  his  sword. 

"  I  hoped,"  ended  the  father,  "  that  these  five  years' 
absence  might  have  made  thee  forget  thy  childish 
inclination  ;"  and  as  Humfrey,  without  raising  his  face, 
emphatically  shook  his  head,  he  went  on  to  add — "  So, 
my  dear  son,  meseemeth  that  there  is  no  remedy,  but 
that,  for  her  peace  and  thine  own,  thou  shouldest  accept': 
this  offer  of  brave  Norreys,  and  by  the  time  the 
campaign  is  ended,  they  may  be  both  safe  in  Scotland, 
out  of  reach  of  vexing  thy  heart,  my  poor  boy." 

"  Is  it  so  sure  that  her  royal  lineage  will  be 
owned  ?"  muttered  Humfrey.  "  Out  on  me  for  saying 
so  !  But  sure  this  lady  hath  made  light  enough  of  her 
wedlock  with  yonder  villain." 

"  Even  so,  but  that  was  when  she  c(eemed  its 
olfspring  safe  beneath  the  waves.  I  fear  me  that,  how- 
ever our  poor  damsel  be  regarded,  she  will  be  treated 
as  a  mere  bait  and  tool.  If  not  bestowed  on  some 
foi'eign  prince  (and  there  hath  been  talk  of  dukes  and 
archdukes),  she  may  serve  to  tickle  the  pride  of  some 
Scottish  thief,  such  as  was  her  father." 

"  Sir !  sir !  how  can  you  speak  patiently  of  such 
profanation  and  cruelty  ?  Papist  butchers  and  Scottish 
thieves,   for  the  child  of  your  hearth !      Were  it  not 


XVII.]  THE  EBBING  WELL.  237 

better  that  I  stole  her  safely  away  and  wedded  her  in 
secret,  so  that  at  least  she  might  have  an  honest 
husband  ?" 

"  Nay,  his  honesty  would  scarce  be  thus  manifest," 
said  Eichard,  "  even  if  the  maid  would  consent,  which 
I  think  she  would  not.  Her  head  is  too  full  of  her 
new  greatness  to  have  room  for  thee,  my  poor  lad. 
Ik'st  that  thou  shouldest  face  the  truth.  And,  verily, 
what  is  it  but  her  duty  to  obey  her  mother,  her  true 
and  veritable  mother,  Humfrey?  It  is  but  making  her 
case  harder,  and  adding  to  her  griefs,  to  strive  to 
awaken  any  inclination  she  may  have  had  for  thee ; 
and  therefore  it  is  that  I  counsel  thee,  nay,  I 
might  command  thee,  to  absent  thyself  while  it  is  still 
needful  that  she  remain  with  us,  passing  for  our 
daughter." 

Humfrey  still  traced  lines  with  his  sword  in  the 
dust.  He  had  always  been  a  strong-willed  though  an 
obedient  and  honourable  boy,  and  his  father  felt  that 
these  five  years  had  made  a  man  of  him,  whom,  in 
spite  of  mediaeval  obedience,  it  was  not  easy  to  dispose 
of  arbitrarily. 

"  There's  no  haste,"  he  muttered.  "  Norreys  will 
not  go  till  my  Lord  of  Leicester's  commission  be  made 
out.      It  is  five  years  since  I  was  at  home." 

"  My  son,  thou  knowest  that  I  would  not  send  thee 
from  me  willingly.  I  had  not  done  so  ere  now,  but 
that  it  was  well  for  thee  to  know  the  world  and  men, 
and  Sheffield  is  a  mere  nest  of  intrigue  and  falsehood, 
where  even  if  one  keeps  one's  integrity,  it  is  hard  to  be 
believed.  But  for  my  Lord,  thy  mother,  and  my  poor 
folk,  I  would  gladly  go  with  thee  to  strike  honest 
downright  blows  at  a  foe  I  could  see  and  feel,  rather 
than  be  notliing  better  than  a  warder,  and  be  driven 


a38  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

distracted  with  women's  tongues.  Why,  they  have 
even  set  division  between  my  Lord  and  his  son  Gilbert, 
who  was  ever  the  dearest  to  him.  Young  as  he  is, 
methinks  Diccon  would  be  better  away  with  thee  than 
where  the  very  air  smells  of  plots  and  lies." 

"  1  trow  the  Queen  of  Scots  will  not  be  here  mucli 
longer,"  said  Humfrey.  "  Men  say  in  London  that  Sir 
Half  Sadler  is  even  now  settiug  forth  to  take  charge  of 
her,  and  send  my  Lord  to  London." 

"  We  have  had  such  hopes  too  often,  my  son,"  said 
Eichard.  "  Nay,  she  hath  left  us  more  than  once,  but 
always  to  fall  back  upon  Sheffield  like  a  weight  to  the 
ground.  .But  she  is  full  of  hope  in  her  son,  now  that 
he  is  come  of  age,  and  hath  put  to  death  her  great  foe 
the  Earl  of  ]\Iorton." 

"  The  poor  lady  might  as  well  put  her  faith  in — 
in  a  jelly-tish,"  said  Humfrey,  falling  on  a  comparison 
perfectly  appreciated  by  the  old  sailor. 

"  Hell  ?  She  will  get  naught  but  stings.  How 
knowest  thou  V 

"  Why,  do  none  know  here  that  King  James  is  in 
the  hands  of  him  they  call  the  Master  of  Gray?" 

"  Queen  ]\Iary  puts  in  him  lier  chief  hope." 

"  Then  she  hath  indeed  grasped  a  jelly-iish.  Know 
you  not,  father,  those  proud  and  gay  ones,  witli  rose- 
coloured  bladders  and  long  blue  beards — blue  as  the 
azure  of  a  herald's  coat  ? " 

"  Ay,  marry  I  do.  I  remendDer  when  I  was  a  lad, 
in  my  first  voyage,  laying  hold  on  one.  I  warrant 
you  I  danced  about  till  I  was  nearly  overboard,  and 
my  arm  was  as  big  as  two  for  three  days  later.  Is 
the  fellow  of  that  sort  ?     The  false  Scot." 

"  Look  you,  father,  I  met  in  London  that  same 
Johnstone  who  was  one  of  this  lady's  gentlemen  at 


XVII. j  THE  EBBING  WELL.  239 

one  time.  You  remember  him.  He  breakfasted  at 
Bridgefield  once  or  twice  ere  the  watch  became  more 
strict." 

"  Yea,  I  remember  him.  He  was  an  honest  fellow 
for  a  Scot." 

"  When  he  made  out  that  I  was  the  little  lad  lie 
remembered,  he  was  very  courteous,  and  desired  his 
commendations  to  you  and  to  my  mother.  He  had 
been  in  Scotland,  and  had  come  south  in  the  train  of 
this  rogue.  Gray.  I  took  him  to  see  the  old  Pelican, 
and  we  had  a  breakfast  aboard  there.  He  asked  much 
after  his  poor  Queen,  whom  he  loves  a,s  much  as  ever, 
and  when  he  saw  I  was  a  man  he  could  trust,  your 
true  son,  he  said  that  he  saw  less  hope  for  her  than 
ever  in  Scotland — her  friends  have  been  slain  or 
exUed,  and  the  young  generation  that  has  grown  up 
have  learned  to  dread  her  like  an  incarnation  of  the 
scarlet  one  of  Babylon.  Their  preachers  would  hail  her 
as  Satan  loosed  on  them,  and  the  nobles  dread  nothing 
so  much  as  being  made  to  disgorge  the  lands  of  the 
Crown  and  the  Church,  on  which  they  are  battening. 
As  to  her  son,  he  was  fain  enough  to  break  forth  from 
one  set  of  tutors,  and  the  messages  of  France  and  Spain 
tickled  his  fancy — but  he  is  nought.  He  is  crammed 
with  scholarship,  and  not  witliout  a  shrewd  apprehen- 
sion ;  but,  with  respect  be  it  spoken,  more  the  stuff 
that  court  fools  are  made  of  than  kings.  It  may  be, 
as  a  learned  man  told  Johnstone,  that  the  shock  the 
Queen  suffered  when  the  brutes  put  Davy  to  deatli 
before  her  eyes,  three  months  ere  liis  birtli,  hath  dam- 
aged his  constitution,  for  he  is  at  the  mercy  of  wdioso- 
ever  chooses  to  lead  him,  and  hatli  no  will  of  his  own. 
This  Master  of  Gray  ■  was  at  first  inclined  to  the 
Queen's  party,  thinking  more  might  be  got  by  a  reversal 


240  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

of  all  things,  but  now  he  finds  the  king's  men  so  strong 
in  the  saddle,  and  the  Queen's  French  kindred  like  to 
be  too  busy  at  home  to  aid  her,  what  doth  he  do,  but 
list  to  our  Queen's  offers,  and  this  ambassage  of  his, 
which  hath  a  colour  of  being  for  Queen  Mary's  release, 
h  verily  to  make  terms  with  my  Lord  Treasurer  and 
Sir  Francis  Walsingham  for  the  pension  he  is  to  have 
for  keeping  his  king  in  the  same  mind." 

"  Turnin"  a  son  against  a  mother !  I  marvel  that 
honourable  counsellors  can  bring  themselves  to  the 
like." 

"  Policy,  sir,  policy,"  said  Humfrey.  "  And  this 
Gray  maketh  a  fine  show  of  chivalry  and  honour,  in- 
somuch that  Sir  Philip  Sidney  himself  hath  desired  his 
friendship ;  but,  you  see,  the  poor  lady  is  as  far  from 
freedom  as  she  was  when  first  she  came  to  Sheffield." 

"  She  is  very  far  from  believing  it,  poor  dame.  I 
am  sorry  for  her,  Humfrey,  more  sorry  than  I  ever 
thought  I  could  be,  now  I  have  seen  more  of  her. 
My  Lord  himself  says  he  never  knew  her  brealc  a 
promise.      How  gracious  she  is  there  is  no  telling." 

"  That  we  always  knew,"  said  Humfrey,  looking 
somewhat  amazed,  that  his  honoured  father  should 
have  fallen  under  the  spell  of  the  "  siren  between  the 
cold  earth  and  moon." 

"  Yes,  gracious,  and  of  a  wondrous  constancy  of 
mind,  and  evenness  of  temper,"  said  Kichard.  "  Now 
that  thy  mother  and  I  have  watched  her  more  closely, 
we  can  testify  that,  weary,  worn,  and  sick  of  body  and 
of  heart  as  she  is,  she  never  letteth  a  bitter  or  a  chid- 
ing word  pass  her  lips  towards  her  servants.  She  hath 
nothing  to  lose  by  it.  Their  fidelity  is  proven.  They 
would  stand  by  her  to  the  last,  use  tliem  as  she  would, 
but  assuredly  their  love  must  be  doubly  bound  up  in 


XVII,]  THE  EBBING  WELI<.  241 

]ier  when  they  see  h(jw  she  regardeth  them  before  her- 
self. Let  what  will  be  said  of  her,  son  Humfrey,  I 
shall  always  maintain  that  I  never  saw  woman,  savo 
thine  own  good  motlier,  of  such  evenness  of  condition, 
and  sweetness  of  consideration  for  all  about  her,  ay, 
and  patience  in  adversity,  such  as,  Heaven  forbid, 
thy  mother  should  ever  know." 

"  Amen,  and  verily  amen,"  said  Humfrey.  "  Deem 
you  then  that  she  hath  not  worked  her  own  woe  V 

"  Nay,  lad,  what  saith  the  Scripture,  '  Judge  not, 
and  ye  shall  not  be  judged '  ?  How  should  I  know 
what  hath  passed  seventeen  years  back  in  Scotland  ?" 

"  Ay,  but  for  present  plots  and  intrigues,  judge 
you  her  a  true  woman  ?" 

"  Humfrey,  thou  hadst  once  a  fox  in  a  cage.  When 
it  found  it  vain  to  dash  against  the  bars,  rememberest 
thou  how  it  scratched  away  the  earth  in  the  rear,  and 
then  sat  over  the  hole  it  had  made,  lest  we  should  see 
it?" 

"  The  fox,  say  you,  sir  ?     Then  you  cannot  call  her 
ought  but  false." 

"  They  tell  me,"  said  Sir  Eichard, "  that  ever  since  an 
Italian  named  Machiavel  wrote  his  Book  of  the  Prince, 
statecraft  hath  been  craft  indeed,  and  princes  suck  in 
deceit  with  the  very  air  they  breathe.  Ay,  boy,  it  is 
who.t  chiefly  vexes  me  in  the  whole.  I  cannot  doubt 
that  she  is  never  so  happy  as  when  there  is  a  plot  or 
scheme  toward,  not  merely  for  her  own  freedom,  but 
the  utter  overthrow  of  our  own  gracious  Sovereign, 
who,  if  she  hath  kept  this  lady  in  durance,  hath 
shielded  her  from  her  own  bloodthirsty  subjects.  Ai.d 
for  dissembling,  I  never  saw  her  equal.  Yet  she,  as 
thy  mother  tells  me,  is  a  pious  and  devout  woman,  who 
bears  her  troubles  thus  cheerfully  and  patiently,  be- 


242  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY,  [CKXi: 

cause  she  deems  tliem  a  martyrdom  for  her  religion. 
Ay,  all  women  are  riddles,  they  say,  hut  this  one  the 
most  of  all  !" 

"  Thinkest  thou  that  she  hath  tampered  with — 
with  that  poor  maiden's  faith  ? "  asked  Humfi  (»y 
huskily. 

"  I  trow  not  yet,  my  son/'  replied  Richard ;  "  Cis  is 
as  open  as  ever  to  thy  mother,  for  I  cannot  believe  she 
hath  yet  learnt  to  dissemble,  and  I  greatly  suspect  that 
the  Queen,  hoping  to  return  to  Scotland,  may  be  will-" 
ing  to  keep  her  a  Protestant,  the  better  to  win  favour 
with  her  brother  and  the  lords  of  his  council ;  but  if 
he  be  such  a  cur  as  thou  sayest,  all  hope  of  honourable 
release  is  at  an  end.  So  thou  seest,  Humfrey,  how  it 
lies,  and  how,  in  my  judgment,  to  remain  here  is  but 
to  wring  thine  own  heart,  and  bring  the  wench  and 
thyself  to  sore  straits.  I  lay  not  my  commands  on 
thee,  a  man  grown,  but  such  is  my  opinion  on  the 
matter." 

"I  will  not  disobey  you,  father,"  said  Humfrey, 
'*  but  suffer  me  to  consider  the  matter." 


XVIIL]  CIS  Oii  SISTEK.  243 


CHAPTER  XVm. 

CIS    OK   SISTER. 

Buxtona,  qu86  calicloe  celebraris  nomine  lymphse 
Forte  milii  post  hac  non  adeunda,  Vale.^ 

Thus  wrote  Queen  Mary  with  a  diamond  upon  her 
window  pane,  smiling  as  she  said,  "  There,  we  will 
leave  a  memento  over  which  the  admirable  Dr.  Jones 
will  gloat  his  philosophical  soul.  Never  may  I  see 
tliee  more,  Buxton,  yet  never  thought  I  to  be  so  happy 
as  I  have  here  been." 

She  spoke  with  the  tenderness  of  farewell  to  the 
spot,  which  had  always  been  the  pleasantest  abode  of 
the  various  places  of  durance  which  had  been  hers  in 
England.  Each  year  she  had  hoped  would  be  her  last 
of  such  visits,  but  on  this  occasion  everything-  seemed 
to  point  to  a  close  to  the  present  state  of  things,  since 
not  only  were  the  negotiations  with  Scotland  appa- 
renlly  prosperous,  but  Lord  Shrewsbury  had  obtained 
an  absolute  promise  from  Elizabeth  that  she  would  at 
all  events  relieve  him  from  his  onerous  and  expensive 
charge.  Thus  there  was  general  cheerfulness,  as  the 
baggage  was  bestowed  in  carts  and  on  beasts  of  burthen, 
and  Mary,   as   she  stood  finishing  her   inscription  on 

*  Buxton,  of  whose  waini  waters  all  men  tell, 
Perchance  I  ne'er  shall  see  thee  more,  Farewell. 


244  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

the  window,  smiled  sweetly  and  graciously  on  Mistress 
Talbot,  and  gave  her  joy  of  the  arrival  of  her  towardly 
and  hopeful  son,  adding,  "  We  surprised  him  at  the 
well !  May  his  Cis,  who  is  yet  to  be  found,  I  trow, 
reward  his  lealty  ! " 

That  was  all  the  notice  Mary  deigned  to  take  of 
the  fcunner  relations  between  her  daughter  and  young 
Talbot.  She  did  not  choose  again  to  beg  for  secrecy 
when  she  was  sure  to  hear  tliat  .'jhe  had  been  fore- 
stalled, and  she  was  too  consummate  a  judge  of 
character  not  to  have  learnt  that,  though  she  might 
despise  the  dogged,  simple  straightforwardness  of 
Richard  and  Susan  Talbot,  their  honour  was  perfectly 
trustworthy.  She  was  able  for  the  present  to  keep 
her  daughter  almost  entirely  to  herself,  since,  on  the 
return  to  Sheffield,  the  former  state  of  things  was 
resumed.  The  Bridgefield  family  was  still  quartered 
in  the  Manor-house,  and  Mistress  Talbot  continued  to 
be,  as  it  were.  Lady  Warder  to  the  captive  in  the 
place  of  the  Countess,  who  obstinately  refused  to 
return  while  Mary  was  still  in  her  husband's  keeping. 
Cicely,  as  Mary's  acknowledged  favourite,  was  almost 
always  in  her  apartments,  except  at  the  meals  of  the 
whole  company  of  Shrewsbury  kinsfolk  and  retainers, 
when  her  place  was  always  far  removed  from  that  of 
Humfrey.  In  truth,  if  ever  an  effort  might  have 
obtained  a  few  seconds  of  private  conversation,  a 
strong  sense  of  embarrassment  and  perplexity  made 
the  two  young  people  fly  apart  rather  than  come 
together.  They  knew  not  what  they  wished.  Ham- 
frey  might  in  his  secret  soul  long  for  a  token  that  Cis 
remembered  his  faithful  affection,  and  yet  he  knew 
that  to  elicit  one  might  do  her  life-long  ^njury.  So, 
however  he  might  crave  for  word  or  look  when  o'lt  of 


XVIII.]  CIS  OR  SISTER.  245 

sight  of  her,  an  honourable  reluctance  always  withheld 
him  from  seeking  any  such  sign  in  the  short  intervals 
when  he  covild  have  tried  to  go  beneath  the  surface. 
On  the  other  hand,  this  apparent  indifference  piqued 
]ier  pride,  and  made  her  stiff,  cold,  and  almost  dis- 
drinfu]  whenever  there  was  any  approach  between 
thtm.  Her  vanity  might  be  flattered  by  the  know- 
ledge that  she  was  beyond  his  reach  ;  but  it  would 
have  been  still  more  gratified  could  she  have  dis- 
covered any  symptoms  of  pining  and  languishing  after 
her.  She  might  peep  at  him  from  under  her  eye- 
lashes in  chapel  and  in  hall;  but  in  the  former  place 
his  gaze  always  seemed  to  be  on  the  minister,  in  the 
latter  he  showed  no  signs  of  flagging  as  a  trencher 
companion.  Both  mothers  thought  her  marvellously 
discreet ;  but  neither  beheld  the  strange  tumult  in  her 
heart,  where  were  surging  pride,  vanity,  ambition,  and 
wounded  affection. 

In  a  few  days.  Sir  Ealf  Sadler  and  liis  son-in-law  Mr. 
Somer  arrived  at  Sheffield  in  order  to  take  the  charge 
of  the  prisoner  whilst  Shrewsbury  went  to  London. 
The  conferences  and  consultations  were  endless  and 
harassing,  and  it  was  finally  decided  that  the  Earl 
should  escort  her  to  Wingfield,  and,  leaving  her  there 
under  charge  of  Sadler,  should  proceed  to  London. 
She  made  formal  application  for  Mistress  Cicely  Talbot 
to  accompany  lier  as  one  of  her  suite,  and  her  sup- 
posed parents  could  not  but  give  their  consent,  but 
six  gentlewomen  had  been  already  enumerated,  and 
the  authorities  would  not  consent  to  her  taking  my 
UiOie  ladies  with  her,  and  decreed  that  Mistress  Cicely 
must  remain  at  home. 

"  This  unkindness  has  made  the  parting  from  this 
place  less  joyous  than  I  looked  for,"  said  Mary,  "  but 


246  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOKY.  [CHAP. 

courage,  ma  mignonne.  Soon  shall  I  send  for  thee  to 
Scotland,  and  there  shalt  thou  burst  thine  husk,  and 
show  thyself  in  thy  true  colours ; "  and  turning  to 
Susan,  "  Madam,  I  must  commit  my  treasure  to  her 
who  has  so  long  watched  over  her." 

"  Your  Grace  knows  that  she  is  no  less  my  treasure," 
said  Susan. 

"  I  should  have  known  it  well,"  returned  the 
Queen,  "from  the  innocence  and  guilelessness  of  the 
damsel.  None  save  such  a  mother  as  Mistress  Talbot 
could  have  made  her  what  she  is.  Credit  me,  madam, 
I  have  looked  well  into  her  heart,  and  found  nought 
to  undo  there.  You  have  bred  her  up  better  than  her 
poor  mother  could  have  done,  and  I  gladly  entrust  her 
once  more  to  your  care,  assured  that  your  well-tried 
honour  will  keep  her  in  mind  of  what  she  is,  and  to 
what  she  may  be  called." 

"  She  shall  remember  it,  madam,"  said  Susan. 

"  When  I  am  a  Queen  once  more,"  said  Mary,  "  all 
I  can  give  will  seem  too  poor  a  meed  for  what  you 
have  been  to  my  child.  Even  as  Queen  of  Scotland 
or  England  itself,  my  power  would  be  small  in  com- 
parison with  my  will.  My  gratitude,  however,  no 
bounds  can  limit  out  to  me." 

And  with  tears  of  tenderness  and  thankfulness  she 
kissed  the  cheeks  and  lips  of  good  Mistress  Talbot, 
who  could  not  but  likewise  weep  for  the  mother  thus 
compelled  to  part  with  her  child. 

The  night  was  partly  spent  in  caresses  and  promises 
of  the  brilliant  reception  preparing  in  Scotland,  with 
auguries  of  the  splendid  marriage  in  store,  with  a 
Prince  of  Lorraine,  or  even  with  an  Archduke. 

Cis  was  still  young  enough  to  dream  of  such  a  lot 
as  an  opening  to  a  fairy  laud  of  princely  glories.     If 


XVIIL]  CIS  OE  SISTER.  247 

her  mother  knew  better,  she  still  hioked  tenderly  back 
on  her  beaio  pays  de  France  with  that  halo  of  brightness 
which  is  formed  only  in  childhood  and  youth.  Moreover, 
it  might  be  desirable  to  enhance  such  aspiration  as  might 
best  secure  the  young  princess  from  anything  derogatory 
to  her  real  rank,  while  she  was  strongly  warned  against 
betraying  it,  and  especially  against  any  assumption  of 
dignity  should  she  ever  hear  of  her  mother's  release, 
reception,  and  recognition  in  Scotland.  For  whatever 
might  be  the  maternal  longings,  it  would  be  needful  to 
feel  the  way  and  prepare  the  ground  for  the  acknow- 
ledgment of  Bothwell's  daughter  in  Scotland,  while 
the  knowledge  of  her  existence  in  England  .would 
almost  surely  lead  to  her  being  detained  as  a  hostage. 
She  likewise  warned  the  maiden  never  to  regard  any 
letter  or  billet  from  her  as  fully  read  till  it  had  been 
held — without  witnesses — to  the  fire. 

Of  Humfrey  Talbot,  Queen  Mary  scorned  to  say 
anything,  or  to  utter  a  syllable  that  she  thought  a 
daughter  of  Scotland  needed  a  warning  against  a 
petty  English  sailor.  Indeed,  she  had  confidence  that 
the  youth's  parents  would  view  the  attachment  as 
quite  as  undesirable  for  him  as  for  the  young  princess, 
and  would  guard  against  it  for  his  sake  as  much  as  for 
hers. 

The  true  parting  took  place  ere  the  household  was 
astir.  Afterwards,  Mary,  fully  equipped  for  travelling, 
in  a  dark  cloth  riding-dress  and  hood,  came  across  to  the 
great  hall  of  the  Manor-house,  and  there  sat  while  each 
one  of  the  attendants  filed  in  procession,  as  it  were,  before 
her.  To  each  lady  she  presented  some  small  token 
wrcught  by  her  own  hands.  To  each  gentleman  she 
also  gave  some  trinket,  such  as  the  elaborate  dress  of 
the  time  permitted,  and  to  each  serving  man  or  maid  a 


248  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

piece  of  money.  Of  each  one  she  gravely  but  geutly 
besought  pardon  for  all  the  displeasures  or  offences  she 
might  have  caused  them,  and  as  they  repHed,  kissing 
her  hand,  many  of  them  with  tears,  she  returned  a  kiss 
on  the  brow  to  each  woman  and  an  entreaty  to  be  re- 
membered in  their  prayers,  and  a  like  request,  with  a 
pressure  of  the  hand,  to  each  man  or  boy. 

It  must  have  been  a  tedious  ceremony,  and  yet  to 
every  one  it  seemed  as  if  Mary  put  her  whole  heart 
into  it,  and  to  any  to  whom  she  owed  special  thanks 
they  were  freely  paid. 

The  whole  was  only  over  by  an  hour  before  noon. 
Then  she  partook  of  a  manchet  and  a  cup  of  wine, 
drinking,  with  liquid  eyes,  to  the  health  and  prosperity 
of  her  good  host,  and  to  the  restoration  of  his  family 
peace,  Mdiich  she  had  so  sorely,  though  unwittingly, 
disturbed. 

Then  she  let  him  hand  her  out,  once  more  kissing 
Susan  Talbot  and  Cis,  who  was  weeping  bitterly,  and 
whispering  to  the  latter,  "  Not  over  much  grief,  ma 
petite  ;  not  more  than  may  befit,  ma  mignonne." 

Lord  Shrewsbury  lifted  her  on  her  horse,  and,  with 
him  on  one  side  and  Sir  Ealf  Sadler  on  the  other,  she 
rode  down  the  long  avenue  on  her  way  to  Wingfield. 

The  Bridgefield  family  had  already  made  their 
arrangements,  and  their  horses  were  waiting  for  them 
amid  the  jubilations  of  Diccon  and  Ned.  The  Queen 
had  given  each  of  them  a  fair  jewel,  with  special 
thanks  to  them  for  being  good  brothers  to  her  dear 
Cis.  "  As  if  one  wanted  thanks  for  being  good  to 
one's  own  sister,"  said  Ned,  thrusting  the  delicate  little 
ruby  brooch  on  his  mother  to  be  taken  care  of  till  his 
days  of  foppery  should  set  in,  and  he  would  need  it 
for  cap  and  phmie. 


XVIII.]  CIS  OR  SISTER.  249 

"  Come,  Cis,  we  are  going  home  at  last,"  said 
Diccon.  "  What !  thou  art  not  breaking  thine  heart 
over  yonder  Scottisli  Lady — when  we  are  going  home, 
home,  I  say,  and  have  got  rid  of  watch  and  ward  for 
ever  ?  Hurrah  !"  and  he  threw  up  his  cap,  and  was 
jrined  in  the  shout  by  more  than  one  of  the  youngsters 
around,  for  Eicliard  and  most  of  the  eklers  were 
escorting  the  Queen  out  of  the  park,  and  Mistress  Susan 
had  been  summoned  on  some  question  of  household 
stuff.  Cis,  however,  stood  leaning  against  the  balus- 
trade, over  which  she  had  leant  for  the  last  glance 
exchanged  with  her  mother,  her  face  hidden  in  her 
hands  and  kerchief,  weeping  bitterly,  feeling  as  if  all 
the  glory  and  excitement  of  the  last  few  weeks  had 
vanished  as  a  dream  and  left  her  to  the  dreary  dul- 
ness  of  common  life,  as  little  insignificant  Cis  Talbot 
again. 

It  was  Humfrey  who  first  came  near,  almost  timidly 
touched  her  hand,  and  said,  "  Cheer  up.  It  is  but  for 
a  little  while,  mayhap.  Slie  will  send  for  thee. 
Come,  here  is  thine  old  palfrey — poor  old  Dapple. 
Let  me  put  thee  on  him,  and  for  this  brief  time  let  us 
feign  that  all  is  as  it  was,  and  thou  art  my  little  sister 
once  more." 

"  I  know  not  which  is  truth  and  which  is  dreaming," 
said  Cis,  waking  up  through  her  tears,  but  resigning 
her  hand  to  him,  and  letting  him  lift  her  to  her  seat 
on  the  old  pony  which  had  been  the  playfellow  of  both. 

If  it  had  been  an  effort  to  Humfrey  to  prolong  the 
word  Cis  into  sister,  he  was  rewarded  for  it.  It  gave 
the  key-note  to  their  intercourse,  and  set  her  at  ease 
with  him  ;  and  the  idea  that  her  present  rustication 
wns  but  a  comedy  instead  of  a  reality  was  consoling  in 
her  present  frame  of  mind.    Mistress  Susan,  surrounded 


250  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

with  importunate  inquirers  as  to  houseliold  matters, 
and  unable  to  escape  from  them,  could  only  see  that 
Humfrey  had  taken  charge  of  the  maiden,  and  trusted 
to  his  honour  and  his  tact.  This  was,  however,  only 
the  beginning  of  a  weary  and  perplexing  time.  Nothing 
could  restore  Cis  to  her  old  place  in  the  Bridgefield 
household,  or  make  her  look  upon  its  tasks,  cares,  and 
joys  as  she  had  done  only  a  few  short  months  ago. 
Her  share  in  them  could  only  be  acting,  and  she  was  too 
artless  and  simple  to  play  a  part.  Most  frequently  she 
was  listless,  dull,  and  pining,  so  much  inclined  to  despise 
and  neglect  the  ordinary  household  occupations  which 
befitted  the  daughter  of  the  family,  that  her  adopted 
mother  was  forced,  for  the  sake  of  her  incognito,  to 
rouse,  and  often  to  scold  her  when  any  witnesses  were 
present  who  would  have  thought  Mrs.  Talbot's  toleration 
of  such  conduct  in  a  daughter  suspicious  and  unnatural. 

Such  reproofs  were  dangerous  in  another  way,  for 
Humfrey  could  not  bear  to  hear  them,  and  was  driven 
nearly  to  the  verge  of  disrespect  and  perilous  approaches 
to  implying  that  Cis  was  no  ordinary  person  to  be 
sharply  reproved  when  she  sat  musing  and  sighing 
instead  of  sewing  Diccon's  shirts. 

Even  the  father  himself  could  not  well  brook  to 
hear  the  girl  blamed,  and  both  he  and  Humfrey  could 
not  help  treating  her  with  a  kind  of  deference  that 
made  the  younger  brothers  gape  and  wonder  what  had 
come  to  Humfrey  on  his  travels  "  to  make  him  treat 
our  Cis  as  a  born  princess." 

"  You  irreverent  varlets,"  said  Humfrey,  "  you  have 
yet  to  learn  that  every  woman  ought  to  be  treated  as 
a  born  princess." 

"  By  cock  and  pie,"  said  spoilt  Ned,  "  that  beats 
all!     One's  own  sister!" 


XVIII.]  CIS  OK  SISTER.  251 

Whereupon  Humfrey  had  the  opportunity  of  vent. 
ing  a  little  of  his  vexation  by  thrashing  his  brotlier  for 
his  oath,  while  sharp  Diccon  innocently  asked  if  men 
never  swore  by  anything  when  at  sea,  and  thereby 
nearly  got  another  castigation  for  irreverent  mocking 
of  his  elder  brother's  discipline. 

At  other  times  the  girl's  natural  activity  and  high 
spirits  gained  the  upper  hand,  and  she  would  abandon 
lierself  without  reserve  to  the  old  homely  delights  of 
Bridgefield.  At  the  apple  gathering,  she  was  running 
about,  screaming  with  joy,  and  pelting  the  boys  with 
apples,  more  as  she  had  done  at  thirteen  than  at 
seventeen,  and  when  called  to  order  she  inconsistently 
pleaded,  "  Ah,  mother  !  it  is  for  the  last  time.  Do  but 
let  me  have  my  swing !"  putting  on  a  wistful  and 
caressing  look,  wliich  Susan  did  not  withstand  when 
the  only  companions  were  the  three  brothers,  since 
Humfrey  had  much  of  her  own  unselfishness  and  self- 
command,  resulting  in  a  discretion  that  was  seldom 
at  fault. 

And  that  discretion  made  him  decide  at  a  fortnight's 
end  that  his  father  had  been  right,  and  that  it  would 
be  better  for  him  to  absent  himself  from  where  he 
could  do  no  good,  but  only  added  to  the  general  per- 
plexity, and  involved  himself  in  the  temptation  of 
betraying  the  affection  he  knew  to  be  hopeless. 

Before,  liowever,  it  was  possible  to  fit  out  either 
Diccon  or  the  four  men  who  were  anxious  to  go  under 
the  leadership  of  Master  Humfrey  of  Bridgefield,  the 
Earl  and  Countess  of  Shrewsbury  were  returning  fully 
reconciled.  Queen  Elizabeth  had  made  the  Caven- 
dishes ask  pardon  on  their  knees  of  the  Earl  for  their 
slanders  ;  and  he,  in  his  joy,  had  freely  foigiven  all. 
Gilbert  Talbot  and  his  wife  had  shared  in  the  general 


252  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CIIAP, 

reconciliation.  His  elder  brother's  death  had  made 
him  the  heir  apparent,  and  all  were  commg  home 
again,  including  the  little  Lady  Arbell,  once  more  to  fill 
the  Castle  and  the  Manor-house,  and  to  renew  the  free 
hosj)itable  life  of  a  great  feudal  chief,  or  of  the  Queen's 
old  courtier,  with  doors  wide  open,  and  no  ward  or 
suspicion. 

Eichard  rejoiced  that  his  sons,  before  going  abroad, 
should  witness  the  return  to  the  old  times  which  had 
been  at  an  end  before  they  could  remember  Sheffield 
distinctly.  The  whole  family  were  drawn  up  as  usual 
to  receive  them,  when  the  Earl  and  Countess  arrived 
first  of  all  at  the  Manor-house. 

The  Countess  looked  smaller,  thinner,  older,  per- 
haps a  trifle  more  shrewish,  but  she  had  evidently 
suffered  much,  and  was  very  glad  to  have  recovered 
her  husband  and  her  home. 

"  So,  Susan  Talbot,"  was  her  salutation,  "  you  have 
thriven,  it  seems.  You  have  been  playing  the  part  of 
hostess,  I  hear." 

"  Only  so  far  as  might  serve  his  Lordship,  madam." 

"  And  the  wench,  there,  what  call  you  her  ?  Ay, 
Cicely.  I  hear  the  Scottish  Queen  hath  been  cocker- 
ing her  up  and  making  her  her  bedfellow,  till  she  hath 
spoilt  her  for  a  reasonable  maiden.  Is  it  so  ?  She 
looks  it." 

"  I  trust  not,  madam,"  said  Susan. 

"  She  grows  a  strapping  wench,  and  we  must  find 
her  a  good  husband  to  curb  her  pride.  I  have  a  young 
man  already  in  my  eye  for  her." 

"  So  please  your  Ladyship,  we  do  not  think  of 
marrying  her  as  yet,"  returned  Susan,  in  consternation. 

"  Tilly  vally,  Susan  Talbot,  tell  me  not  such  folly 
as  that.     Why,  the  maid  is  over  s(5venteen  at  the  very 


XVIII.]  CIS  OR  SISTER.  253 

least !  Save  for  all  tlie  coil  this  Scottish  woman  aud 
her  crew  have  made,  I  should  have  seen  her  well 
mated  a  year  ago." 

Here  was  a  satisfactory  prospect  for  Mistress  Susan, 
bred  as  she  had  been  to  unquestioning  submission  to 
the  Countess.  There  was  no  more  to  be  said  on  that 
occasion,  as  the  great  lady  passed  on  to  bestow  her 
notice  on  others  of  her  little  court. 

Humfrey  meantime  had  been  warmly  greeted  by 
the  younger  men  of  tlie  suite,  and  one  of  them 
handed  him  a  letter  which  filled  him  with  eagerness. 
It  was  from  an  old  shipmate,  who  wrote,  not  without 
sanction,  to  inform  him  that  Sir  Francis  Drake  was 
fitting  out  an  expedition,  with  the  full  consent  of  the 
Queen,  to  make  a  descent  upon  the  Spaniards,  and  that 
there  was  no  doubt  that  if  he  presented  himself  at 
Plymouth,  lie  would  obtain  either  the  command,  or  at 
any  rate  the  lieutenancy,  of  one  of  the  numerous  ships 
which  were  to  be  commissioned.  Humfrey  was  before 
all  else  a  sailor.  He  had  made  no  engagement  to  Sir 
John  Norreys,  and  many  of  the  persons  engaged  on 
this  expedition  were  already  known  to  him.  It  was 
believed  that  the  attack  was  to  be  upon  Spain  itself, 
and  the  notion  filled  him  with  ardour  and  excitement 
that  almost  drove  Cicely  out  of  his  mind,  as  he  laid 
the  proposal  before  his  father. 

Eichard  was  scarcely  less  excited.  "  You  young 
lads  are  in  luclc,"  he  said.  "  I  sailed  for  years  and 
never  had  more  than  a  chance  brush  with  the  Don ; 
never  the  chance  of  bearding  him  on  his  own  shores !" 

"  Come  with  us,  then,  father,"  entreated  Humfrey. 
"Sir  Francis  would  be  overjoyed  to  see  you.  You 
would  get  the  choicest  ship  to  your  share." 

"  Nay,  nay,  my  boy,  tempt  me  not ;  I  cannot  leave 


254  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

your  mother  to  meet  all  tlie  coils  that  may  fall  in  her 
way  !  No ;  I'm  too  old.  I've  lost  my  sea  legs.  I 
leave  thee  to  win  the  fame,  son  Humfrey!" 

The  decision  was  thus  made,  and  Humfrey  and 
Diccon  were  to  start  together  for  London  first,  and  then 
for  Plymouth,  the  second  day  after  a  great  festival  for 
the  wedding  of  the  little  Alethea,  daughtei-  of  Gilbert, 
Lord  Talbot — still  of  very  tender  age — to  the  young 
heir  of  Arundel.  The  Talbot  family  had  been  pre- 
cluded from  holding  festival  for  full  fourteen  years, 
or  indeed  from  entertaining  any  guests,  save  the  Com- 
missioners sent  down  to  confer  from  time  to  time  with 
the  captive  Queen,  so  that  it  was  no  wonder  that  they 
were  in  the  highest  possible  spirits  at  their  release,  and 
determined  to  take  the  first  opportunity  of  exercising 
the  gorgeous  hospitality  of  the  Tudor  times. 

Posts  went  out,  riding  round  all  the  neighbourhood 
with  invitations.  The  halls  were  swept  and  adorned 
with  the  best  suit  of  hangings.  All  the  gentlemen, 
young  and  old,  all  the  keepers  and  verdurers,  were  put 
in  requisition  to  slaughter  all  the  game,  quadruped  and 
biped,  that  fell  in  their  way,  the  village  women  and 
children  were  turned  loose  on  the  blackberries,  cran- 
berries, and  bilberries,  and  all  the  ladies  and  serving- 
women  were  called  on  to  concoct  pasties  of  many  stories 
high,  subtilties  of  wonderful  curiosity,  sweetmeats  and 
comfits,  cakes  and  marchpanes  worthy  of  Camacho's 
wedding,  or  to  deck  tlie  lialls  with  green  boughs,  and 
weave  garlands  of  heather  and  red  berries. 

Cis  absolutely  insisted,  so  that  the  heads  of  the 
household  gave  way,  on  riding  out  with  Eichard  and 
Humfrey  when  they  had  a  buck  to  mark  down  in 
Eivelin  Chase.  And  she  set  her  heart  on  going  out  to 
/rather  cranberries  in  the  park,  flinging  herself  about 


y.YlU.]  CIS  OR  SISTER.  255 

witli  petulant  irritation  when  Dame  Susan  showed 
herself  unwilling  to  permit  a  proceeding  which  was 
thought  scarcely  becoming  in  any  well-born  damsel  of 
the  period.  "  Ah,  child,  child  !  thou  wilt  have  to 
bear  worse  restraints  than  tliese,"  she  said,  "  if  ever 
thou  comest  to  thy  greatness." 

Cis  made  no  answer,  but  threw  herself  into  a  chair 
and  pouted. 

The  next  morning  she  did  not  present  herself  at  the 
usual  hour ;  but  just  as  the  good  mother  was  about  to 
go  in  quest  of  her  to  her  chamber,  a  clear  voice  came 
singing  up  the  valley — 

"  Berries  to  sell !  berries  to  sell ! 
Berries  fresli  from  moorland  fell!" 

And  there  stood  a  girl  in  peasant  dress,  with  short 
petticoats,  stout  shoes  soaked  in  dew,"  a  round  face 
under  black  brows,  and  cheeks  glowing  in  morning 
freshness ;  and  a  boy  swung  the  other  handle  of  the 
basket  overflowing  with  purple  berries. 

It  was  but  a  shallow  disguise  betrayed  by  the  two 
roguish  faces,  and  the  good  mother  was  so  pleased  to 
see  Cis  smile  merrily  again,  that  she  did  not  scold  over 
the  escapade. 

Yet  the  inconsistent  girl  hotly  refused  to  go  up  to 
the  castle  and  help  to  make  pastry  for  her  motlier's 
bitter  and  malicious  foe,  and  Sir  Eichard  shook  his  head 
and  said  she  was  in  the  right  on't,  and  should  not  be 
compelled.  So  Susan  found  herself  making  lame 
excuses,  which  did  not  avert  a  sharp  lecture  from  the 
Countess  on  the  cockering  of  her  daughter. 


256  UJSKNOWN  TO  IllSTOIiY.  [rHAT. 


CHArXER  XIX. 

THE   CLASH   OF   SWORDS. 

Festivals  in  the  middle  ages  were  conducted  by  day 
rather  than  by  night,  and  it  was  a  bright  noonday  sun 
that  shone  upon  the  great  hall  at  Sheflfield,  bedecked 
with  rich  tapestry  around  the  dais,  where  the  floor  was 
further  spread  with  Eastern  carpets.  Below,  the 
garniture  of  the  walls  was  of  green  boughs,  interspersed 
between  stag's  antlers,  and  the  floor  was  strewn,  in 
ancient  fashion,  with  the  fragrant  rush. 

All  the  tables,  however,  were  spread  with  pure 
white  napery,  the  difference  being  only  in  texture,  but 
the  higher  table  rejoiced  in  the  wonderful  extravagance 
of  silver  plates,  whde  the  lower  had  only  trenchers. 
As  to  knives,  each  guest  brought  his  or  her  own,  and 
forks  were  not  yet,  but  bread,  in  long  fingers  of  crust, 
was  provided  to  a  large  amount  to  supply  the  want. 
Splendid  salt-cellars,  towering  as  landmarks  to  tlie 
various  degrees  of  guests,  tankards,  gilt  and  parcel  gilt 
or  shining  with  silver,  perfectly  swarmed  along  the 
board,  and  the  meanest  of  tlie  guests  present  drank 
from  silver-rimmed  cups  of  horn,  while  for  the  very 
greatest  were  reserved  the  tall,  slender,  opal  Venice 
glasses,  recently  purcliased  by  the  Countess  in  London. 

The  pies,  the  glory  of  Yorkshire,  surpassed  them- 


XIX.]  THE  CLASH  OF  SWORDS.  257 

selves.  The  young  bride  and  bridegroom  had  the 
felicity  of  contemplating  one  whose  crust  was  elevated 
into  the  altar  of  Hymen,  with  their  own  selves  united 
thereat,  attended  by  numerous  Cupids,  made  chiefly  in 
paste  and  sugar,  and  with  little  wings  from  the 
feathers  of  the  many  slaughtered  fowl  within.  As  to 
the  jellies,  the  devices  and  the  subtilties,  the  pen  re- 
fuses to  describe  them !  It  will  be  enough  to  say  that 
the  wedding  itself  was  the  least  part  of  the  entertain- 
ment. It  was  gone  through  with  very  few  spectators 
in  the  early  morning,  and  the  guests  only  assembled 
afterwards  to  this  mighty  dinner  at  a  somewhat  earlier 
hour  than  they  would  now  to  a  wedding  breakfast. 
The  sewer  marshalled  all  the  guests  in  pairs  according 
to  their  rank,  having  gone  through  the  roll  with  his 
mistress,  just  as  the  lady  of  the  house  or  her  aide-de- 
camp pairs  the  guests  and  puts  cards  in  their  plates  in 
modern  times.  Every  one  was  there  who  had  any 
connection  with  the  Earl ;  and  Cis,  though  flaslies  of 
recollection  of  her  true  claims  would  come  across  her 
now  and  then,  was  unable  to  keep  from  being  eager 
about  her  first  gaiety.  Perhaps  the  strange  life  she 
had  led  at  Buxton,  as  it  receded  in  the  distance, 
became  more  and  more  unreal  and  shadowy,  and 
she  was  growing  back  into  the  simple  Cicely  she  had 
always  believed  herself.  It  was  with  perfectly  girlish 
natural  phasure  that  she  donned  the  delicate  sky-blue 
farthingale,  embroidered  with  white  lilies  by  the  skilful 
hands  of  the  captive  Queen,  and  the  daintily-fashioned 
little  cap  of  Flanders  lace,  and  practised  the  pretty 
dancing  steps  which  the  Queen  had  amused  herself  with 
teaching  her  long  ere  they  knew  they  were  mother  and 
daughter. 

As  Talbots,  the  Bridgefield  family  were  spectators 
s 


258  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOEY.  [CHAP. 

of  the  wedding,  after  which,  one  by  one,  the  seneschal 
paired  them  off.  Eichard  was  called  away  first,  then 
a  huge  old  Yorkshire  knight  came  and  bore  away 
Mrs.  Susan,  and  after  an  interval,  during  which  the 
young  people  entertained  hopes  of  keeping  together  in 
enviable  obscurity,  the  following  summons  to  the  board, 
was  heard  in  a  loud  voice — 

"  Master  Antony  Babington,  Esquire,  of  Dethick ! 
Mistress  Cicely  Talbot,  of  Bridgefield." 

Humfrey's  brow  grew  dark  with  disappointment, 
but  cleared  into  a  friendly  greeting,  as  there  advanced 
a  tall,  slender  gentleman,  of  the  well-known  fair,  pink 
and  white  colouring,  and  yellow  hair,  apparelled  point 
device  in  dark  green  velvet,  with  a  full  delicately 
crimped  ruff,  bowing  low  as  he  extended  his  hand  to 
take  that  of  the  young  lady,  exchanging  at  the  same 
time  a  friendly  greeting  with  his  old  comrade,  before 
leading  Cis  to  her  place. 

On  the  whole,  she  was  pleased.  Tete-a-Utes  with 
Humfrey  were  dreadfully  embarrassing,  and  she  felt  life 
so  flat  without  her  nocturnal  romance  that  she  was 
very  glad  to  have  some  one  who  would  care  to  talk  to 
her  of  the  Queen.  In  point  of  fact,  such  conversation 
was  prohibited.  In  the  former  days,  when  there  had 
been  much  more  intercourse  between  the  Earl's  house- 
hold and  the  neiglibourhood,  regular  cautions  had  been 
given  to  every  member  of  it  not  to  discuss  the  prisoner 
or  make  any  conmiunication  about  her  habits.  The 
younger  generation  who  had  grown  up  in  the  time  of 
the  closer  captivity  had  never  been  instructed  in  these 
laws,  for  the  simple  reason  that  they  hardly  saw  auy  one. 
Antony  and  Cicely  were  likewise  most  comfortably 
isohited,  for  she  was  flanked  by  a  young  esquire,  who 
had  no  eyes  nor  ears  save  for  the  fair  widow  of  sixteen 


XIX.]  THE  CLASH  OF  SWOEDS.  259 

whom  he  had  just  led  in,  and  Antony,  by  a  fat  and 
deaf  lady,  whose  only  interest  was  in  tasting  as  many 
varieties  of  good  cheer  as  she  could,  and  trying  to 
discover  how  and  of  what  they  were  compounded. 
Knowing  Mistress  Cicely  to  be  a  member  of  the  family, 
slie  once  or  twice  referred  the  question  to  her  across 
Antony,  but  getting  very  little  satisfaction,  she  gave  up 
the  young  lady  as  a  bad  specimen  of  housewifery,  and 
was  forced  to  be  content  with  her  own  inductions. 

There  was  plenty  of  time  for  Antony  to  begin  with, 
"Are  there  as  many  conies  as  ever  in  the  chase  ?"  and 
to  begin  on  a  discussion  of  all  the  memories  connected 
with  the  free  days  of  childliood,  the  blackberry  and 
bilberry  gatherings,  the  hide-and-seek  in  the  rocks  and 
heather,  the  consternation  when  little  Dick  was  lost, 
the  audacious  comedy  with  the  unsuspected  spectators, 
and  all  the  hundred  and  one  recollections,  less  memor- 
able perhaps,  but  no  less  delightful  to  botli.  It  was 
only  thus  gradually  tliat  they  approached  their  recent 
encounter  in  the  Castleton  Cavern,  and  Antony  ex- 
plained how  he  had  burnt  to  see  his  dear  Queen  and 
mistress  once  again,  and  that  his  friends,  Tichborne  and 
the  rest,  were  ready  to  kiss  every  footstep  she  had 
taken,  and  almost  worshipped  him  and  John  Eyre  for 
contriving  this  mode  of  letting  them  behold  the  hitherto 
unknown  object  of  their  veneration. 

All  that  passionate,  chivalrous  devotion,  which  in 
Sidney,  Spenser,  and  many  more  attached  itself  to  their 
great  Gloriana,  had  in  these  young  men,  all  either 
secretly  or  openly  reconciled  to  Eome,  found  its  ol)ject 
in  that  rival  in  whom  Edmund  Spenser  only  beheld 
his  false  Duessa  or  snowy  Elorimel.  And,  indeed, 
romance  had  in  her  a  congenial  lieroine,  who  needed 
little  self-blinding  so  to  appear.      Her  beauty  needed 


260  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOEY.  [CHAP. 

no  illusion  to  be  credited.  Even  at  her  age  now  over 
forty,  the  glimpse  they  had  had  in  the  fitful  torchlight 
of  the  cavern  had  been  ravishing,  and  had  confirmed 
all  they  had  ever  heard  of  her  witching  loveliness ; 
nor  did  they  recollect  how  that  very  obscurity  might 
have  assisted  it. 

To  their  convictions,  she  was  the  only  legitimate 
sovereign  in  the  island,  a  confessor  for  their  beloved 
Church,  a  captive  princess  and  beauty  driven  from  her 
throne,  and  kept  in  durance  by  a  usurper.  Thus  every 
generous  feeling  was  enlisted  in  her  cause,  with  nothing 
to  counterbalance  them  save  the  English  hatred  of 
the  Spaniard,  with  whom  her  cause  was  inextricably 
linked ;  a  dread  of  what  might  be  inflicted  on  the 
country  in  the  triumph  of  her  party ;  and  in  some,  a 
strange  inconsistent  personal  loyalty  to  Elizabeth ;  but 
all  these  they  were  instructed  to  believe  mere  tempta- 
tions and  delusions  that  ought  to  be  brushed  aside  as 
cobwebs. 

Antony's  Puritan  tutor  at  Cambridge  had,  as  Eichard 
Talbot  had  foreboded,  done  little  but  add  to  his  detesta- 
tion of  the  Eeformation,  and  he  had  since  fallen  in 
with  several  of  the  seminary  priests  who  were  circulat- 
ing in  England.  Some  were  devoted  and  pious  men,  who 
at  the  utmost  risk  went  from  house  to  house  to  con- 
firm the  faith  and  constancy  of  the  old  families  of 
their  own  communion.  The  saintly  martyr  spirit  of 
one  of  these,  whom  Antony  met  in  the  house  of  a 
kinsman  of  his  mother,  had  so  wrought  on  him  as  to 
bring  him  heart  and  soul  back  to  his  mother's  pro- 
fession, in  which  he  had  been  secretly  nurtured  in 
early  childhood,  and  which  had  received  additional 
confirmation  at  Shetfield,  where  Queen  Mary  and  her 
ladies  had  always  shown  that  they  regarded  him  as  one 


XIX  ]  THE  CLASH  OF  SWORDS.  261 

of  themselves,  sure  to  return  to  them  when  he  was  his 
own  master.  It  was  not,  however,  of  this  that  he 
spoke  to  Cis.  but  whatever  she  ventured  to  tell  him  of 
the  Queen  was  listened  to  with  delight  as  an  extreme 
favour,  which  set  her  tongue  off  with  all  the  eager 
pleasure  of  a  girl,  telling  what  she  alone  can  tell. 

All  through  the  banquet  they  talked,  for  Babington 
had  much  to  ask  of  all  the  members  of  the  household 
whom  he  had  known.  And  after  the  feast  was  over 
and  the  hall  was  cleared  for  dancing,  Antony  was 
still,  by  etiquette,  her  partner  for  the  evening.  The 
young  bride  and  bridegroom  had  tirst  to  perform  a 
stately  pavise  before  the  whole  assembly  in  the  centre 
of  the  floor,  in  which,  poor  young  things,  they  acquitted 
themselves  much  as  if  they  were  in  the  dancing- 
master's  hands.  Then  her  father  led  out  his  mother, 
and  vice  vcrsd.  The  bridegroom  had  no  grandparents, 
but  the  stately  Earl  handed  forth  his  little  active  wiry 
Countess,  bowing  over  her  with  a  grand  stiff  devotion 
as  genuine  and  earnest  as  at  their  wedding  twenty 
years  previously,  for  the  reconciliation  had  been  com- 
j)lete,  and  had  restored  all  her  ascendency  over  him. 
Theirs,  as  Mistress  Susan  exultingly  agreed  with  a 
Hardwicke  kinsman  not  seen  for  many  years,  was  the 
.L^Tandest  and  most  featly  of  all  the  performances.  All 
tlie  time  each  pair  were  performing,  the  others  were 
awaiting  their  turn,  the  ladies  in  rows  on  benches  or 
settles,  the  gentlemen  sometimes  standing  before  them, 
sometimes  sitting  on  cushions  or  steps  at  their  feet, 
sometimes  handing  them  comfits  of  sugar  or  dried  fruits. 

The  number  of  gentlemen  was  greatly  in  excess, 
so  tl\at  Humfrey  had  no  such  agreeable  occupation, 
but  had  to  stand  in  a  herd  among  other  young  men, 
watching  with  no  gratified  eye  Antony  Babington,  in  a 


262  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [cHAP. 

graceful  attitude  at  Cicely's  feet,  while  she  conversed 
with  him  with  untiring  animation. 

Humfrey  was  not  the  only  one  to  remark  them. 
Lady  Shrewsbury  nodded  once  or  twice  to  herself  as 
one  who  had  discovered  what  she  sought,  and  the  next 
morning  a  mandate  arrived  at  Bridgefield  that  Master 
Kichard  and  his  wife  should  come  to  speak  with  my 
Lady  Countess. 

Eichard  and  his  son  were  out  of  reach,  havinsr 
joined  a  party  of  the  guests  who  had  gone  out  hunting. 
Susan  had  to  go  alone,  for  she  wished  to  keep  Cicely 
as  much  as  possible  out  of  her  Ladyship's  sight,  so  she 
left  the  girl  in  charge  of  her  keys,  so  that  if  father 
brought  home  any  of  the  hunters  to  the  midday  meal, 
tankards  and  glasses  mi<i;lit  not  be  lackinfj. 

The  Countess's  summons  was  to  her  own  bower,  a 
sort  of  dressing-room,  within  her  great  state  bed-room, 
and  with  a  small  glazed  window  looking  down  into  the 
great  hall  where  her  ladies  sat  at  work,  whence  she 
could  on  occasion  call  down  orders  or  directions  or 
reproofs.  Susan  had  known  what  it  was  to  stand  in 
dread  of  such  a  window  at  Chatsworth  or  Hardwicke, 
whence  shrill  shrieks  of  objurgation,  followed  sometimes 
by  such  missiles  as  pincushions,  shoes,  or  combs.  How- 
ever the  window  was  now  closed,  and  my  Lady  sat  in 
her  arm-chair,  as  on  a  throne,  a  stool  being  set,  to 
which  she  motioned  her  kinswoman. 

"  So  !  Susan  Talbot,"  she  said,  "  I  have  sent  for  you 
to  do  you  a  good  turn,  for  you  are  mine  own  kins- 
woman of  the  Hardwicke  blooil,  and  have  ever  been 
reasonably  humble  and  dutiful  towards  me  and  my 
Lord." 

Mrs.  Talbot  did  not  by  any  means  view  this  speech 
as  the  insult  it  would  in  these  days  appear  to  a  lady 


XIX.]  THE  CLASH  OF  SWORDS.  263 

of  her  Lirtli  and  position,  but  accepted  it  as  the  compli- 
ment it  was  intended  to  be. 

"  Thus/'  continued  Lady  Shrewsbury,  "  I  have 
always  cast  about  how  to  marry  that  daughter  of  yours 
:fitly.  It  would  have  been  done  ere  now,  had  not  that 
Scottish  woman's  tongue  made  mischief  between  me 
and  my  Lord,  but  I  am  come  home  to  rule  my  own 
house  now,  and  mine  own  blood  have  the  first  claim 
on  me." 

The  alarm  always  excited  by  a  summons  to  speak 
with  my  Lady  Countess  began  to  acquire  definite  form, 
and  Susan  made  answer,  "  Your  Ladyship  is  very 
good,  but  I  doubt  me  whether  my  husband  desires  to 
bestow  Cicely  in  marriage  as  yet." 

"  He  hath  surely  received  no  marriage  proposals  for 
lier  without  my  knowledge  or  my  Lord*s,"  said  Bess 
of  Hardwicke,  who  was  prepared  to  strain  all  feudal 
claims  to  the  uttermost. 

"  No,  madam,  but " 

"  Tell  me  not  that  you  or  he  have  the  presumption 
to  think  that  my  son  William  Cavendish  or  even 
Edward  Talbot  will  ever  cast  an  eye  on  a  mere  portion- 
less country  maid,  not  comely,  nor  even  like  the  Hard- 
wickes  or  the  Talbots.  If  I  thought  so  for  a  moment, 
never  shouldst  thou  darken  these  doors  again,  thou 
ungrateful,  treacherous  woman." 

"  Neitlier  of  us  ever  had  the  thought,  far  less  the 
wish,"  said  Susan  most  sincerely. 

"  Well,  thou  wast  ever  a  simple  woman,  Susan 
Talljot,"  said  the  great  lady,  there1)y  meaning  truthful, 
"  so  I  will  e'en  take  thy  word  for  it,  the  more  readily 
that  I  made  contracts  for  both  the  lads  when  I  was  at 
court.  As  to  Dick  Talbot  not  being  fain  to  bestow  her, 
I   trow  that  is  because   ye   liave   spent  too   much   on 


264  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTGKY.  [CHAP. 

your  long-legged  sons  to  he  able  to  lay  down  a  portion 
for  her,  though  she  be  your  only  daughter.     Auan  ?" 

For  though  this  was  quite  true,  Susan  feeling  that 
it  was  not  the  whole  truth,  made  but  faint  response. 
However,  the  Countess  went  on,  expecting  to  over- 
power her  with  gratitude.  "  The  gentleman  I  mean  is 
willing  to  take  her  in  her  smock,  and  moreover  his 
wardship  and  marriage  were  granted  to  my  Lord  by  her 
Majesty.     Thou  knowest  whom  I  mean." 

She  wanted  to  hear  a  guess,  and  Susan  actually 
foreboded  the  truth,  but  was  too  full  of  dismay  and 
perplexity  to  do  anything  but  shake  her  head  as  one 
puzzled. 

"  What  think'st  thou  of  Mr.  Babington  ?"  triumph- 
antly exclaimed  the  Countess. 

"  Mr.  Babington  ! "  returned  Susan.  "  But  he  is  no 
longer  a  ward  !" 

"  No.  We  had  granted  his  marriage  to  a  little 
niece  of  my  Lord  Treasurer's,  but  she  died  ere  coming 
to  age.  Then  Tom  Eatcliffe's  wife  would  have  him  for 
her  daughter,  a  mere  babe.  But  for  that  thou  and 
thine  husband  have  done  good  service  whUe  evil 
tongues  kept  me  absent,  and  because  the  wench  comes 
of  our  own  blood,  we  are  willing  to  bestow  her  upon 
him,  he  showing  himself  willing  and  content,  as  befits 
a  lad  bred  in  our  own  household." 

"  Madam,  w^e  are  much  beholden  to  you  and  my 
Lord,  but  sure  Mr.  Babington  is  more  inclined  to  the 
old  faith." 

"  Tush,  woman,  what  of  that  ?  Thou  mayst  say 
the  same  of  half  our  Northern  youth  !  They  think  it 
grand  to  dabble  with  seminary  jjriests  in  hiding,  and 
talk  big  about  their  conscience  and  the  like,  but  when 
they've  seen  a  neighbour  or  two  pay  down  a  heavy 


XIX.]  THE  CLASH  OF  SWORDS.  265 

fine  for  recusancy,  they  think  better  of  it,  and  a  good 
wife  settles  their  brains  to  jog  to  church  to  hear  the 
parson  with  the  rest  of  them." 

"  I  fear  me  Cis  is  over  young  to  settle  any  one's 
mind,'  said  Susan. 

"  Slie  is  seventeen  if  she  is  a  day,"  said  my  Lady, 
'  and  I  was  a  wedded  wife  ere  I  saw  my  teens. 
Moreover,  I  will  say  for  thee,  Susan,  that  thou  hast 
bred  the  girl  as  becomes  one  trained  in  my  household, 
and  unless  she  have  been  spoiled  by  resort  to  the 
Scottish  woman,  she  is  like  to  make  the  lad  a  moder- 
ately good  wife,  having  seen  nought  of  the  unthrifty 
modes  of  the  fine  court  dames,  who  queen  it  with 
standing  ruffs  a  foot  high,  and  coloured  with  turmeric,  so 
please  you,  but  who  know  no  more  how  to  bake  a  march- 
pane, or  roll  puff  paste,  than  yonder  messan  dog  !" 

"  She  is  a  good  girl,"  said  Susan,  "  but " 

"What  has  the  foolish  wife  to  object  now?"  said 
the  Countess.  "  I  tell  you  I  marked  them  both  last 
eve,  and  though  I  seldom  turn  my  mind  to  such  follies, 
I  saw  the  plain  tokens  of  love  in  every  look  and 
gesture  of  the  young  springald.  Nay,  'twas  his  coun- 
tenance that  put  it  into  my  mind,  for  I  am  even  too 
good  -  natured  —  over  good  -  natured,  Susan  Talbot. 
How  now,"  at  some  sound  below,  springing  to  the  little 
window  and  flinging  it  back,  "you  lazy  idle  wenches 
— what  are  you  doing  there  ?  Is  my  work  to  stand 
still  while  you  are  toying  with  yon  vile  whelp  ?  He 
is  tangling  the  yarn,  don't  you  see,  thou  purblind 
Jane  Dacre,  with  no  eyes  but  for  ogling.  There ! 
theie  !  Eound  the  leg  of  the  chair,  don't  you  see  1" 
and  down  flew  a  shoe,  which  made  the  poor  dog  howl, 
and  his  mistress  catch  him  up.  "  Put  him  down  !  put 
him    down   this   instant !      Thomas  !      Davy !      Here, 


266  unknow:n  to  history.  [chap. 

hang  him  up,  I  say,"  cried  this  over  good-natured  lady, 
interspersing  her  commands  with  a  volley  of  sixteenth 
century  Billingsgate,  and  ending  by  declaring  that 
nothing  fared  Avell  without  her,  and  hurrying  off  to 
pounce  down  on  the  luckless  damsels  who  had  let 
tlieir  dog  play  with  the  embroidery  yarn  destined  to 
emblazon  the  tapestry  of  Chatsworth  with  the  achieve- 
ments of  Juno.  The  good  nature  was  so  far  veritable 
that  when  she  found  little  harm  done,  and  had  vented 
her  wrath  in  strong  language  and  boxes  on  the  ear, 
she  would  forget  her  sentence  upon  the  poor  little 
greyhound,  which  Mrs.  Jane  Dacre  had  hastily  con- 
veyed out  of  sight  during  her  transit  downstairs. 
Susan  was  thus,  to  her  great  relief,  released  for  the 
present,  for  guests  came  in  before  my  Lady  had  fully 
completed  her  objurgations  on  her  ladies,  the  hour  of 
noon  was  nigh  at  hand,  sounds  in  the  court  betokened 
the  return  of  the  huntsmen,  and  Susan  effected  her 
escape  to  her  own  sober  old  palfre}^ — glad  that  she 
would  at  least  be  able  to  take  counsel  with  her  hus- 
band on  this  most  inconvenient  proposition. 

He  came  out  to  meet  her  at  the  court  door,  having 
just  dismounted,  and  she  knew  by  his  face  that  she 
had  not  to  give  him  the  first  intelligence  of  the  diffi- 
culty in  which  they  stood. 

My  Lord  had  himself  spoken  to  him,  like  my  Lady 
expecting  him  to  be  enchanted  at  the  prospect  of  so 
good  a  match  for  his  slenderly-portioned  daughter,  foi' 
Dethick  was  a  fair  estate,  and  the  Babington  family, 
though  not  ennobled,  fully  equal  to  a  younger  branch 
of  the  Talbots.  However,  Ei chard  had  had  a  less  un* 
comfortable  task  than  his  wife,  since  the  Earl  was  many 
degrees  more  reasonable  than  the  Countess.  He  had 
shown  himself  somewhat  offended  at  not  meeting  mors 


XIX.]  THE  CLASH  OF  SWORDS.  267 

alacrity  in  the  acceptance  of  his  proposal,  when  Eichard 
had  objected  on  account  of  the  young  gentleman's 
Popish  proclivities  ;  but  boldly  declared  that  he  was 
quite  certain  that  the  stripling  had  been  entirely  cured. 

This  point  of  the  narrative  had  just  been  reached 
when  it  was  interrupted  by  a  scream,  and  Cicely  came 
flying  into  the  hall,  crying,  "  0  father,  father,  stop 
them !  Humfrey  and  Mr.  Babington !  They  are 
killing  one  another." 

"  Where  ?"  exclaimed  Eichard,  catching  up  his 
sword. 

"  In  the  Pleasance,  father  !  Oh,  stop  them  !  They 
will  slay  one  another  !  They  had  their  swords  !"  and 
as  the  father  was  already  gone,  she  threw  herself  into 
the  mother's  arms,  hid  her  face  and  sobbed  with  fright 
as  scarce  became  a  princess  for  whom  swords  were  for 
the  first  time  crossed.  "  Fear  not !  Father  will  stop 
them,"  said  the  mother,  with  confidence  she  could  only 
keep  up  outwardly  by  the  inward  cry,  "  God  protect 
my  boy.  Father  will  come  ere  they  can  hurt  one 
another." 

"But  how  came  it  about?"  she  added,  as  with  an 
arm  round  the  trembling  girl,  she  moved  anxiously  for- 
w^ard  to  know  the  issue. 

"  Oh  !  I  know  not.  'Twas  Humfrey  fell  on  him. 
Hark !" 

"  'Tis  father's  voice,"  said  Susan.  "  Thank  God  !  I 
know  by  the  sound  no  harm  is  done  !  But  how  was 
it,  child  ?" 

Cis  told  with  more  coherence  now,  but  the  tears  in 
her  eyes  and  colour  deepening :  "  I  was  taking  in 
Humfrey 's  kerchiefs  from  the  bleaching  on  the  grass, 
when  Master  Babington — he  liad  brought  me  a  plume 
of  pheasant's  feathers  from  the  hunting,  and  he  began. 


268  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP 

*  O  mother,  is  it  sooth  ?  He  said  my  Lord  had  sent 
him." 

"  That  is  true,  my  child,  but  you  know  we  have  no 
choice  but  to  refuse  thee." 

"Ay,  mother,  and  Antony  knows." 

"  Not  thy  true  birth,  child  ?" 

"  Not  that,  but  the  other  story.  So  he  began  to 
say  that  if  I  were  favourable  —  Mother,  do  men 
always  do  like  that?"  Hiding  her  face  against  the 
trusty  breast,  "  And  when  I  drew  back,  and  said  I 
could  not  and  would  not  hearken  to  such  folly " 

"  That  was  well,  dear  child." 

"  He  would  have  it  that  I  should  have  to  hear  him, 
and  he  went  down  on  his  knee,  and  snatched  at  my 
hand.  And  therewith  came  a  great  howl  of  rage  like 
an  angry  lion,  and  Humfrey  bounded  right  over  the 
sweetbrier  fence,  and  cried  out,  '  Off,  fellow !  No 
Papist  traitor  knave  shall  meddle  with  her.'  And 
then  Antony  gave  him  back  the  lie  for  calling  him 
traitor,  and  they  drew  their  swords,  and  I  ran  away  to 
call  father,  but  oh  !  motlier,  I  heard  them  clash  !"  and 
she  shuddered  again. 

"  See,"  said  Susan,  as  they  had  reached  the  corner 
of  a  thick  screen  of  yew-trees,  "  all  is  safe.  There  they 
stand,  and  father  between  them  speaking  to  them.  No, 
we  will  not  go  nearer,  since  we  know  that  it  is  well 
with  them.  Men  deal  with  each  other  better  out  of 
women's  earshot.  Ah,  see,  there  they  are  giving  one 
another  their  hands.     All  is  over  now." 

"  Humfrey  stands  tall,  grave,  and  stiff !  He  is  only 
doing  it  because  father  bids  him,"  said  Cicely.  "  An- 
tony is  much  more  willing." 

"  Poor  Humfrey !  he  knows  better  than  Antony 
how  vain  any  hope  must  be  of  my  silly  little  princess," 


XIX.]  THE  CLASH  OF  SWORDS,  269 

said  Susan,  "with  a  sigh  for  her  boy.  **  Come  in,  child, 
and  set  th(3se  locks  in  order.  The  hour  of  noon  hath 
long  been  over,  and  father  hath  not  yet  dined." 

So  they  flitted  out  of  sight  as  Eichard  and  his  son 
turned  from  the  place  of  encounter,  the  former  sayir  g, 
"  Son  Humfrey,  I  had  deemed  thee  a  wiser  man." 

"  Sir,  low  could  a  man  brook  seeing  that  fellow  on 
his  kn  30  to  her  ?  Is  it  not  enough  to  be  debarred  from 
my  sweet  princess  myself,  but  I  must  see  her  beset  by 
a  Papist  and  traitor,  fostered  and  encouraged  too  ? " 

"  And  thou  couldst  not  rest  secure  in  the  utter 
impossibility  of  her  being  given  to  him  ?  He  is  as 
much  out  of  reach  of  her  as  thou  art." 

"  He  has  secured  my  Lord  and  my  Lady  on  his  side  !" 
growled  Humfrey. 

"  My  Lord  is  not  an  Amurath,  nor  my  Lady  either," 
said  Eichard,  shortly.  "As  long  as  I  pass  for  her 
father  I  have  power  to  dispose  of  her,  and  I  am  not 
going  to  give  another  woman's  daughter  away  without 
her  consent." 

"  Yet  the  fellow  may  have  her  ear,"  said  Humfrey. 
"  I  know  him  to  be  popishly  inclined,  and  there  is  a 
web  of  those  Eomish  priests  all  over  the  island,  whereof 
this  Queen  holds  the  strands  in  her  fingers,  captive 
though  she  be.  I  should  not  wonder  if  she  had  devised 
this  fellow's  suit." 

"  This  is  the  very  madness  of  jealousy,  Humfrey," 
said  his  father.  "  The  whole  matter  was,  as  thy  mother 
and  thy  Lord  have  both  told  me,  simply  a  device  of  my 
Lady  Countess's  own  brain." 

"  Babington  took  to  it  wondrous  naturally,"  muttered 
Huiafrey. 

"  That  may  be ;  but  as  for  the  lady  at  Wingfield, 
her  talk  to  our  poor  maid  hath  been  all  of  archdukes 


2  70  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

and  dukes.  She  is  far  too  haughty  to  think  for  a 
moment  of  giving  her  daughter  to  a  mere  Derbyshire 
esquire,  not  even  of  noble  blood.  You  may  trust  her 
for  that." 

This  pacified  Humfrey  for  a  little  while,  especially 
as  the  bell  was  clanging  for  the  meal  which  had  been 
unusually  deferred,  and  he  had  to  hurry  away  to  remove 
certain  marks,  which  were  happily  the  result  of  the 
sweetbrier  weapons  instead  of  that  of  Babington. 

That  a  little  blood  had  been  shed  was  shown  by 
the  state  of  his  sword  point,  but  Antony  had  disclaimed 
being  hurt  when  the  master  of  the  house  came  up,  and 
in  the  heat  of  the  rebuke  the  father  and  son  had  hardly 
noticed  that  he  had  thrown  a  kerchief  round  his  left 
hand  ere  he  moved  away. 

Before  dinner  was  over,  word  was  brought  in  from 
the  door  that  Master  Will  Cavendish  wanted  to  speak 
to  Master  Humfrey.  The  ladies'  hearts  were  in  their 
mouths,  as  it  were,  lest  it  should  be  to  deliver  a  cartel, 
and  they  looked  to  the  father  to  interfere,  but  he  sat 
still,  contentiug  himself  with  saying,  as  his  son  craved 
license  to  quit  the  board,  "  Use  discretion  as  well  as 
honour." 

They  were  glad  that  the  next  minute  Humfrey  came 
back  to  call  his  father  to  the  door,  where  Will  Caven- 
dish sat  on  horseback.  He  had  come  by  desire  of 
Babington,  who  had  fully  intended  that  the  encounter 
should  be  kept  secret,  but  some  servant  must  have  been 
aware  of  it  either  from  the  garden  or  the  park,  and  the 
Countess  had  got  wind  of  it.  She  had  summoned 
Babington  to  her  presence,  before  the  castle  barber 
had  finished  dealing  with  the  cut  in  his  hand,  and 
the  messenger  reported  that  "  my  Lady  was  in  one  of 
her  raging  fits,"  and  talked  of  throwing  young  Hum- 


XIX.]  THE  CLASH  OF  SWOEDS.  271 

frey  into  a  dungeon,  if  not  having  him  hung  for  his 
insolence. 

Babington,  who  had  talked  to  his  friends  of  a  slip 
with  his  hunting-knife  while  disembowelling  a  deer, 
was  forced  to  tell  the  fact  in  haste  to  Cavendish,  the 
nearest  at  hand,  begging  him  to  hurry  down  and  advise 
Humfrey  to  set  forth  at  once  if  he  did  not  wish  his 
journey  to  be  unpleasantly  delayed. 

"  My  Lord  is  unwilling  to  cross  my  mother  at  the 
present,"  said  young  Cavendish  with  half  a  smile  ;  "  and 
though  it  be  not  likely  that  much  harm  should  come 
of  the  matter,  yet  if  she  laid  hands  on  Humfrey  at  the 
present  moment,  there  might  be  hindrance  and  vexa- 
tion, so  it  may  be  well  for  him  to  set  forth,  in  case 
Tony  be  unable  to  persuade  my  Lady  that  it  is  nought." 

Will  Cavendish  had  been  a  friendly  comrade  of 
both  Humfrey  and  Antony  in  their  boyish  days,  and 
his  warning  was  fully  to  be  trusted. 

"  I  know  not  why  I  should  creep  off  as  though  I 
had  done  aught  that  was  evil,"  said  Humfrey,  drawing 
himself  up. 

"  Well,"  said  Will,  "  my  Lord  is  always  wroth  at 
brawling  with  swords  amongst  us,  and  he  njight — my 
mother  egging  him  on — lay  you  by  the  heels  in  the 
strong  room  for  a  week  or  so.  Nay,  for  my  part,  me- 
thinks  'twas  a  strange  requital  of  poor  Babington's 
suit  to  your  sister!  Had  she  been  your  love  instead 
of  your  sister  there  might  have  been  plainer  excuse, 
but  sure  you  wot  not  of  aught  against  Tony  to  warrant 
such  heat." 

"  He  was  importuning  her  when  she  would  have 
none  of  him,"  said  Humfrey,  feeling  the  perplexity  he 
had  drawn  on  himself. 

"  Will  says  well,"  added  the  father,  feeling  that  it 


272  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [nHAP. 

by  all  means  behoved  them  all  to  avert  inquiry  into 
the  cause  of  Humfrey's  passion,  since  neither  Cicely's 
birth  nor  Antony's  perilous  inclinations  could  be 
pleaded.  "  To  be  detained  a  week  or  two  might  hin- 
der thy  voyage.  So  we  will  speed  thee  on  thy  way 
instantly." 

"  Tell  me  not  where  he  halts  for  the  night,"  said 
Cavendish  significantly.  "  Fare  thee  well,  Humfrey.  I 
would  return  ere  I  am  missed.  I  trust  thou  wilt  have 
made  the  Spaniard's  ships  smoke,  and  weighted  thy 
pouch  with  his  dollars,  before  we  see  thee  again." 

"  Fare  thee  well,  Will,  and  thank  thee  kindly,"  re- 
turned Humfrey,  as  they  wrung  each  other's  hands. 
"  And  tell  Antony  that  I  thank  him  heartily  for  his 
thought,  and  owe  him  a  good  turn." 

"  That  is  well,  my  son,"  said  Eichard,  as  Cavendish 
rode  out  of  the  court.  "  Babiugton  is  both  hot  and 
weak-headed,  and  I  fear  me  is  in  the  toils  of  the  Scot- 
tish lady ;  but  he  would  never  do  aught  that  he  held 
as  disloyal  by  a  comrade.  I  wish  I  could  say  the 
same  of  him  anent  the  Queen." 

"  And  you  will  guard  her  from  him,  sir  ? "  earnestly 
said  Humfrey. 

"  As  I  would  from — I  would  have  said  Frenchman 
or  Spaniard,  but,  poor  maid,  that  may  only  be  her  hap, 
if  her  mother  should  come  to  her  throne  again ; "  and 
as  Humfrey  shrugged  his  shoulders  at  the  improbability, 
"  But  we  must  see  thee  off,  my  boy.  Poor  mother  ! 
this  hurries  the  parting  for  her.      So  best,  mayhap." 

It  was  hastily  arranged  that  Humfrey  should  ride 
off  at  once,  and  try  to  overtake  a  squire  who  had  been 
at  the  festival,  and  had  invited  him  to  turn  a  little  out 
of  his  road  and  spend  a  day  or  two  at  his  house  when 
leaving  home.      Humfrey  had  then  decliued,  but  hos- 


XIX.]  THE  CLASH  OF  SWORDS.  273 

pitdlity  in  those  days  was  elastic,  and  he  had  no  doubt 
of  a  welcome.  His  father  would  bring  Diccon  and  his 
baggage  to  join  him  there  the  next  day. 

Thus  there  were  only  a  very  few  minutes  for  adieux, 
and,  as  Eichard  had  felt,  this  was  best  for  all,  even  the 
anxious  mother.  Cicely  ran  about  with  the  rest  in  the 
stress  of  preparation,  until  Humfrey,  hurrying  upstairs, 
m&o  her  coming  down  with  a  packet  of  his  lace  cuffs 
in  her  hands. 

He  caught  the  hand  on  the  balusters,  and  cried, 
"  My  princess,  my  princess,  and  art  thou  doing  this  for 
me?" 

"  Thou  hast  learnt  fine  compliments,  Humfrey,"  said 
Cis,  trying  to  do  her  part  with  quivering  lips. 

"  Ah,  Cis  !  thou  knowest  but  too  well  what  hath 
taught  me  no  fine  words  but  plain  truth.  Fear  me 
not,  I  know  what  is  due  to  thee.  Cis,  we  never  used 
to  believe  the  tales  and  ballads  that  told  of  knights 
worshipping  princesses  beyond  their  reach,  without  a 
hope  of  more  than  a  look — not  even  daring  to  wish 
for  more ;  Cis,  it  is  very  truth.  Be  thou  where  thou 
wilt,  with  whom  thou  wilt,  there  will  be  one  ready  to 
serve  thee  to  the  uttermost,  and  never  ask  aught — 
aught  but  such  remembrance  as  may  befit  the  brother 
of  thy  childhood " 

"  Mistress  Cis,"  screamed  one  of  the  maids,  "  madam 
is  waiting  for  those  cuffs." 

Cis  ran  down,  but  the  squeeze  and  kiss  on  the 
hand  remained,  as  it  Avere,  imprinted  on  it,  far  more 
than  the  last  kiss  of  all,  which  he  gave,  as  both  knew 
and  felt,  to  support  his  character  as  a  brother  before 
the  assembled  household. 


274  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 


CHArTER   XX. 

WINGFIELD    MANOR. 

The  drawing  of  swords  was  not  regarded  as  a  heinous 
offence  in  Elizabethan  days.  It  was  not  likely,  under 
ordinary  circumstances,  to  result  in  murder,  and  was 
looked  on  much  as  boxing  is,  or  was  recently,  in 
public  schools,  as  an  evidence  of  high  spirit,  and  a 
means  of  working  off  ill-blood. 

Lady  Shrewsbury  was,  however,  much  incensed  at 
such  a  presumptuous  reception  of  the  suitor  whom  she 
had  backed  with  her  would-be  despotic  influence;  and 
in  spite  of  Babington's  making  extremely  light  of  it, 
and  declaring  that  he  had  himself  been  too  forward  in 
his  suit,  and  the  young  lady's  apparent  friglit  had 
made  her  brother  interfere  over  hastily  for  her  protec- 
tion, four  yeomen  were  despatched  by  her  Ladyship 
with  orders  in,^tantly  to  bring  back  Master  Humfrey 
Talbot  to  answer  for  himself. 

They  were  met  by  Mr.  Talbot  with  the  sober  reply 
tliat  Master  Humfrey  was  already  set  forth  on  his 
journey.  The  men,  having  no  orders,  never  thought 
of  pursuing  him,  and  after  a  short  interval  Eichard 
thought  it  expedient  to  proceed  to  the  Manor-house  to 
explain  matters. 

The  Countess   swooped   upon   him   in  one  of  her 


XX.]  WINGFIELD  MANOR.  275 

ungovernaHe  furies — one  of  those  of  which  even 
Gilbert  Talbot  avoided  writing  the  particulars  to  his 
father — abusing  his  whole  household  in  general,  and 
his  son  in  particular,  in  the  most  outrageous  manner, 
for  thus  receiving  the  favour  she  had  done  to  their 
beggarly,  ill-favoured,  ill-nurtured  daughter.  Eichard 
stood  still  and  grave,  his  hat  in  his  hand,  as  unmoved 
and  tranquil  as  if  he  had  been  breasting  a  stiff  breeze 
on  the  deck  of  his  ship,  with  good  sea-room  and  con- 
fidence in  all  his  tackle,  never  even  attempting  to 
open  his  lips,  but  looking  at  the  Countess  with  a 
steady  gaze  which  somehow  disconcerted  her,  for  she 
demanded  wherefore  he  stared  at  her  like  one  of  his 
clumsy  hinds. 

"  Because  her  Ladyship  does  not  know  what  she  is 
saying,"  he  replied. 

"  Darest  thou  !  Thou  traitor,  thou  viper,  thou 
unhanged  rascal,  thou  mire  under  my  feet,  thou  blot 
on  the  house  !  Darest  thou  beard  me — me  ?"  screamed- 
my  Lady.     "  Darest  thou — I  say " 

If  the  sailor  had  looked  one  whit  less  calm  and 
resolute,  my  Lady  would  have  had  her  clenched  fist  on 
his  ear,  or  her  talons  in  his  beard,  but  he  was  like  a 
rock  against  which  the  billows  expended  themselves, 
and  after  more  of  the  tempest  than  need  stain  these 
pages,  she  deigned  to  demand  what  he  meant  or  had 
to  say  for  his  son. 

"  Solely  this,  madam,  that  my  son  had  never  even 
heard  of  Babington's  suit,  far  less  that  he  had  your 
Ladyship's  good-will.  He  found  him  kneeling  to 
Cicely  in  the  garden,  and  the  girl,  distressed  and  dis- 
mayed at  his  importunity.  There  were  hot  words  and 
drawn  blades.  That  was  the  whole.  I  parted  them 
and  saw  them  join  hands." 


276  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

"  So  saith  Master  Babington.  He  is  willing  to 
overlook  the  iusult,  so  will  I  and  my  Lord,  if  you  will 
atone  for  it  by  instantly  consenting  to  this  espousal." 

"  That,  madam,  I  cannot  do." 

She  let  him  say  no  more,  and  the  storm  had  begun 
to  rage  again,  when  Babington  took  advantage  of  an 
interval  to  take  breath,  and  said,  "  I  thank  you, 
madam,  and  pray  you  peace.  If  a  little  space  be 
vouchsafed  me,  I  trust  to  show  this  worthy  gentleman 
cause  wherefore  he  should  no  longer  withhold  his  fair 
damsel  from  me." 

"Indeed!"  said  the  Countess.  "Art  thou  so  con- 
fident ?  I  marvel  what  better  backer  thou  wouldst 
have  than  me  ! .  So  conceited  of  themselves  are  young 
men  now-a-days,  they  think,  forsooth,  their  own  merits 
and  graces  should  go  farther  in  mating  them  than  the 
word  and  will  of  their  betters.  There,  you  may  go  ! 
I  wash  my  hands  of  the  matter.  One  is  as  ingrate  as 
the  other." 

Both  gentlemen  accepted  this  amiable  dismissal, 
each  hoping  that  the  Countess  might  indeed  have 
washed  her  hands  of  their  affairs.  On  his  departure 
Eichard  was  summoned  into  the  closet  of  the  Earl, 
who  had  carefully  kept  out  of  the  way  during  the 
uproar,  only  trusting  not  to  be  appealed  to.  "  My 
good  cousin,"  he  asked,  "  what  means  this  broil  be- 
tween the  lads  ?     Hath  Babington  spoken  sooth  ? " 

"  He  hath  spoken  well  and  more  generously  than, 
mayhap,  I  thought  he  would  have  done,"  said  Eichard. 

"  Ay ;  you  have  judged  the  poor  youth  somewhat 
hardly,  as  if  the  folly  of  pagedom  never  were  out- 
grown," said  the  Earl.  "  I  put  him  under  governor- 
ship such  as  to  drive  out  of  his  silly  pate  all  the  wiles 
that  he  was  fed  upon  here.     You  will  see  him  prove 


XX.]  WINGFIELD  MANOE.  277 

himself  an  lionest  Protestant  and  good  subject  yet,  and 
be  glad  enough  to  give  him  your  daughter.  So  he  was 
too  hot  a  lover  for  Master  Hunifrey's  notions,  eh  ?"  said 
my  Lord,  laughing  a  little.  "  The  varlet !  He  was  over 
prompt  to  protect  his  sister,  yet  'twas  a  fault  on  the 
right  side,  and  I  am  sorry  there  was  such  a  noise  about 
it  that  he  should  have  gone  without  leave-takings." 

"  He  will  be  glad  to  hear  of  your  Lordship's  good- 
ness. I  shall  go  after  him  to-morrow  and  take  his 
mails  and  little  Diccon  to  him." 

"  That  is  well,"  said  the  Earl.  "  And  give  him 
this,  with  his  kinsman's  good  wishes  that  he  may  win 
ten  times  more  from  the  Don,"  pushing  towards 
Eichard  a  packet  of  twenty  broad  gold  pieces,  stamped 
with  Queen  Bess  in  all  her  glory ;  and  then,  after 
receiving  due  thanks  for  the  gift,  which  was  meant  half 
as  friendly  feudal  patronage  from  the  head  of  the  family, 
half  as  a  contribution  to  the  royal  service,  the  Earl 
added,  "  I  would  crave  of  thee,  Eichard,  to  extend  thy 
journey  to  Wingfield.  Here  are  some  accounts  of  which 
I  could  not  sooner  get  the  items,  to  be  discharged  be- 
tween me  and  the  lady  there — and  I  would  fain  send 
thee  as  the  man  whom  I  can  most  entirely  trust.  I 
will  give  thee  a  pass,  and  a  letter  to  Sadler,  bidding 
liim  admit  thee  to  her  presence,  since  there  are  matters 
here  which  can  sooner  be  discharged  by  one  word  of 
mouth  than  by  many  weary  lines  of  writing." 

Good  Master  Eichard's  conscience  had  little  occa- 
sion to  wince,  yet  he  could  not  but  feel  somewhat 
guilty  when  this  opportune  commission  was  given  to 
him,  since  the  Earl  gave  it  unaware  of  his  secret 
understanding  with  the  captive.  He  accepted  it, 
however,  without  hesitatiou,  since  he  was  certainly 
not  fToincj  to  make  a  mischievous  use  of  it,  and  bent 


278  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

all  his  mind  to  understand  the  complicated  accounts 
that  he  was  to  lay  before  the  Queen  or  her  comptroller 
of  the  household. 

He  had  still  another  interview  to  undergo  with 
Antony  Babington,  who  overtook  him  on  his  way 
home  through  the  crackling  leaves  that  strewed  the 
avenue,  as  the  October  twilight  fell.  His  recent  con- 
duct towards  Humfrey  gave  liim  a  certain  right  to 
friendly  attention,  though,  as  the  frank-hearted  mariner 
said  to  himself,  it  was  hard  that  a  plain  man,  who 
never  told  a  lie,  nor  willingly  had  a  concealment  of  his 
own,  should  be  involved  in  a  many-sided  secret  like 
this,  a  sort  of  web,  where  there  was  no  knowing 
whether  straining  the  wrong  strand  might  not  amount 
to  a  betrayal,  all  because  he  had  rescued  an  infant,  and 
not  at  once  proclaimed  her  an  alien. 

"  Sir,"  said  Antony,  "  if  my  impatience  to  accost  the 
maiden  we  wot  of,  when  I  saw  her  alone,  had  not  mis- 
led me,  I  should  have  sought  you  first  to  tell  you  that 
no  man  knows  better  than  I  that  my  Lady  Countess's 
good  will  is  not  what  is  wanting  to  forward  my  suit." 

"  Knowing  then  that  it  is  not  in  my  power  or  right 
to  dispose  of  her,  thine  ardent  wooing  was  out  of  place," 
said  Eichard. 

"  I  own  it,  sir,  though  had  I  but  had  time  I  should 
have  let  the  maiden  know  that  I  sought  her  subject  to 
other  approval,  which  I  trust  to  obtain  so  as  to  satisfy 

you." 

"  Young  man,"  said  Richard,  "  listen  to  friendly 
counsel,  and  meddle  not  in  perilous  matters.  I  ask 
thee  not  whether  Dethick  hath  any  commerce  with 
Wingfield ;  but  I  warn  thee  earnestly  to  eschew  begin- 
ning again  that  which  caused  the  trouble  of  thy  child- 
hood.    Thou  mayst  do  it  innocently,  seeking  the  con- 


XX.]  WINGFIELD  MANOR.  279 

sent  of  the  lady  to  tliis  courtship  of  thine  ;  but  I  tell 
thee,  as  one  who  knows  more  of  the  matter  than  thou 
canst,  that  thou  wilt  only  meet  with  disappointment." 

"  Hath  the  Queen  other  schemes  for  her  ? "  asked 
Babington,  anxiously;  and  Eichard,  thinking  of  the 
vista  of  possible  archdukes,  replied  that  she  had ;  but 
that  he  was  not  free  to  speak,  though  he  replied  to 
Babington's  half-uttered  question  that  his  son  Humfrey 
was  by  no  means  intended. 

"Ah!"  cried  Antony,  "you  give  me  hope,  sir,  I 
will  do  her  such  service  that  she  shall  refuse  me 
nothing !  Sir  !  do  you  mock  me  !"  he  added,  with  a 
fierce  change  of  note. 

"  My  poor  lad,  I  could  not  but  laugh  to  think  what 
a  simple  plotter  you  are,  and  what  fine  service  you  will 
render  if  thou  utterest  thy  vows  to  the  very  last  person 
who  should  hear  them !  Credit  me,  thou  wast  never 
made  for  privy  schemes  and  conspiracies,  and  a  Queen 
who  can  only  be  served  by  such,  is  no  mistress  for  thee. 
Thou  wilt  but  run  thine  own  neck  into  the  noose,  and 
belike  that  of  others." 

"  That  wall  I  never  do,"  quoth  Antony.  "  I  may 
peril  myself,  but  no  others." 

"  Then  the  more  you  keep  out  of  secrets  the  better. 
Thou  art  too  open-hearted  and  unguarded  for  them  ! 
So  speaks  thy  well-wisher,  Antony,  whose  friendship 
thou  hast  won  by  thine  honourable  conduct  towards 
my  rash  boy ;  though  I  tell  thee  plainly,  the  maiden  is 
not  for  thee,  whether  as  Scottish  or  English,  Cis  or  Bride." 

So  they  parted  at  the  gate  of  the  park,  the  younger 
man  full  of  hope  and  confidence,  the  elder  full  of 
pitying  misgiving. 

He  was  too  kind-hearted  not  to  let  Cicely  know 
that  he  should  see  her  mother,  oi  to  refuse  to  take  a 


280  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

billet  for  her, — a  little  formal  note  necessarily  silent  on 
the  matter  at  issue,  since  it  had  to  be  laid  before  the 
Earl,  who  smiled  at  the  scrupulous  precaution,  and  let 
it  pass. 

Thus  the  good  father  parted  with  Humfrey  and 
Diccon,  rejoicing  in  his  heart  that  they  would  fight 
with  open  foes,  instead  of  struggling  with  the  meshes 
of  perplexity,  which  beset  all  concerned  with  Queen 
Mary,  and  then  he  turned  his  hors'e's  head  towards 
Winsfield  Manor,  a  grand  old  castellated  mansion  of 
the  Talbots,  considered  by  some  to  excel  even  Sheffield. 
It  stood  high,  on  ground  falling  very  steeply  from  the 
walls  on  three  sides,  and  on  the  south  well  fortified, 
court  within  court,  and  each  with  a  deep-arched  and 
portcullised  gateway,  with  loopholed  turrets  on  either 
side,  a  porter's  lodge,  and  yeomen  guards. 

Mr.  Talbot  had  to  give  his  name  and  quality,  and 
show  his  pass,  at  each  of  these  gates,  though  they  were 
still  guarded  by  Shrewsbury  retainers,  with  the  talbot 
on  their  sleeves.  He  was,  however,  received  with  the 
respect  and  courtesy  due  to  a  trusted  kinsman  of  their 
lord;  and  Sir  Ealf  Sadler,  a  thin,  elderly,  careworn 
statesman,  came  to  greet  him  at  the  door  of  the  hall, 
and  would  only  have  been  glad  could  he  have  remained 
a  week,  instead  of  for  the  single  night  he  wished  to 
spend  at  Wingfield. 

Sadler  was  one  of  Mary's  most  gentle  and  courteous 
warders,  and  he  spoke  of  her  with  much  kindness, 
regretting  tliat  her  health  had  again  begun  to  suffer 
from  the  approach  of  winter,  and  far  more  from 
disappointment. 

The  negotiation  with  Scotland  on  her  behalf  was 
now  known  to  have  been  abortive.  James  had  fallen 
into  the  hands  of  the  faction  most  hostile  to  her,  and 


XX.]  WIXGFIELD  MANOK.  281 

though  his  mother  still  clung  with  desperate  hope  to 
the  trust  that  he,  at  least,  was  labouring  on  her  belialf, 
no  one  else  believed  that  he  cared  for  anything  but  his 
own  security,  and  even  she  had  been  forced  to  perceive 
that  her  liberation  was  again  adjourned. 

"  And  what  think  you  was  her  thought  when  she 
f(jund  that  road  closed  up  ?"  said  Sir  Ealf.  "  Why,  for 
her  people  !  Her  gentlewoman,  Mrs.  Mowbray,  hath,  it 
seems,  been  long  betrothed," 

"Ay,  to  Gilbert  Curll,  the  long -backed  Scotch 
Secretary.  They  were  to  be  wed  at  Stirling  so  soon  as 
she  arrived  there  again." 

"  Yea  ;  but  when  she  read  the  letter  that  overthrew 
her  hopes,  what  did  she  say  but  that  '  her  servants 
must  not  grow  gray-headed  with  waiting  till  she  was 
set  free '!  So  she  would  have  me  make  the  case  known 
to  Sir  Parson,  and  we  had  them  married  in  the  parish 
church  two  days  since,  they  being  both  good  Protestants." 

"  There  is  no  doubt  that  her  kindness  of  heart  is 
true,"  said  Eichard.  "  The  poor  folk  at  Sheffield  and 
Ecclesfield  will  miss  her  plentiful  almsgiving." 

"  Some  say  it  ought  to  be  hindered,  for  that  it  is 
but  a  purchasing  of  friends  to  her  cause,"  said  Sadler ; 
"  but  I  have  not  the  heart  to  check  it,  and  what  could 
these  of  the  meaner  sort  do  to  our  Queen's  prejudice  ? 
I  take  care  that  nothing  goes  among  them  that  could 
hide  a  billet,  and  that  none  of  her  people  have  private 
speech  with  them,  so  no  harm  can  ensue  from  her 
bounty." 

A  message  here  came  that  the  Queen  was  ready  to 
admit  Mr.  Talbot,  and  Eichard  found  himself  in  her 
presence  chamber,  a  larger  and  finer  room  than  that  in 
the  lodge  at  Sheffield,  and  with  splendid  tapestry 
hangings  and  plenishings ;  but  the  windows  all  looked 


282  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

into  the  inner  quadrangle,  instead  of  on  the  expanse 
of  park,  and  thus,  as  Mary  said,  she  felt  more  entirely 
the  prisoner.  This,  however,  was  not  perceptible  at 
the  time,  for  the  autumn  evening  had  closed  in ;  there 
were  two  large  lires  burning,  one  at  each  end  of  the 
room,  and  tall  tapestry-covered  screens  and  high-backed 
settles  were  arranged  so  as  to  exclude  the  draughts 
around  the  hearth,  where  Mary  reclined  on  a  couch- 
like cliair.  She  looked  ill,  and  though  she  brightened 
with  her  sweet  smile  to  welcome  her  guest,  there 
were  dark  circles  round  her  eyes,  and  an  air  of  de- 
jection in  her  whole  appearance.  She  held  out  her 
hand  graciously,  as  Eichard  approached,  closely  fol- 
lowed by  his  host ;  he  put  his  knee  to  the  ground 
and  kissed  it,  as  she  said,  "You  must  pardon  me, 
Mr.  Talbot,  for  discourtesy,  if  I  am  less  agile  than 
when  we  were  at  Buxton.  You  see  my  old  foe  lies  in 
wait  to  plague  me  with  aches  and  pains  so  soon  as  the 
year  declines." 

"  I  am  sorry  to  see  your  Grace  thus,"  returned 
Eichard,  standing  on  the  step. 

"  The  while  I  am  glad  to  see  you  thus  well,  sir. 
And  how  does  the  good  lady,  your  wife,  and  my  sweet 
playfellow,  your  daughter?" 

"  Well,  madam,  I  thank  your  Grace,  and  Cicely  has 
presumed  to  send  a  billet  by  mine  hand." 

"  Ah !  the  dear  bairnie,"  and  all  the  Queen's  con- 
summate art  could  not  repress  the  smile  of  gladness 
and  tlie  movement  of  eager  joy  with  which  she  held  out 
her  hand  for  it,  so  that  Eichard  regretted  its  extreme 
brevity  and  unsatisfying  nature,  and  Mary,  recollecting 
herself  in  a  second,  added,  smiling  at  Sadler,  "  Mr. 
Talbot  knows  how  a  poor  prisoner  must  love  the  pretty 
playfellows  that  are  lent  to  her  for  a  time." 


XX,]  WINGFIELD  MANOR.  283 

Sir  Ealf's  presence  hindered  any  more  intimate 
conversation,  and  Eichard  had  certainly  committed  a 
solecism  in  giving  Cicely's  letter  the  precedence  over 
the  Earl's.  The  Queen,  liowever,  had  recalled  her 
caution,  and  inquired  for  the  health  of  the  Lord  and 
Lady,  and,  with  a  certain  sarcasm  on  her  lips,  trusted 
that  the  peace  of  the  family  was  complete,  and  that 
they  were  once  more  setting  Hallamshire  the  example 
of  living  together  as  household  doves. 

Her  hazel  eyes  meantime  archly  scanned  the  face 
of  Eichard,  who  could  not  quite  forget  the  very  un- 
dovelike  treatment  he  had  received,  though  he  could 
and  did  sturdily  aver  that  "  my  Lord  and  my  Lady  were 
perfectly  reconciled,  and  seemed  most  happy  in  their 
reunion." 

Well-a-day,  let  us  trust  that  there  will  be  no 
further  disturbances  to  their  harmony,"  said  Mary,  "  a 
prayer  I  may  utter  most  sincerely.  Is  the  little 
Arbell  come  back  with  them  ? " 

"Yea,  madam." 

"  And  is  she  installed  in  my  former  rooms,  with  the 
canopy  over  her  cradle  to  befit  lier  strain  of  royalty  ? " 

"  I  think  not,  madam.  Meseems  that  my  Lady 
Countess  hath  seen  reason  to  be  heedful  on  that  score. 
My  young  lady  hath  come  back  with  a  grave  gouvernante, 
who  makes  her  read  her  primer  and  sew  her  seam,  and 
save  that  she  sat  next  my  Lady  at  the  wedding  feast 
there  is  little  difference  made  between  her  and  the 
other  grandchildren." 

The  Queen  then  inquired  into  the  circumstances  of 
the  wedding  festivities  with  the  interest  of  one  to 
whom  most  of  the  parties  were  more  or  less  known, 
and  who  seldom  had  the  treat  of  a  little  feminine 
gossip.      Slie   asked   who   had   been  "  her   little  Cis's 


284  UjNknown  to  histoey.  [chap. 

partner,"  and  when  she  heard  of  Babiugton,  she  said, 
"  Ah  ha,  then,  the.  poor  youth  has  made  his  pea'je  with 
my  Lord  ?  " 

"  Certes,  madam,  he  is  regarded  with  high  favour 
by  both  my  Lord  and  my  Latly,"  said  Eichard,  heartily 
wishing  himself  rid  of  his  host. 

"  I  rejoice  to  hear  it,"  said  Mary  ;  "  I  was  afraid 
that  his  childish  knight-errantry  towards  the  captive 
dame  had  damaged  the  poor  stripling's  prospects  for 
ever.  He  is  our  neighbour  here,  and  I  believe  Sir 
Ealf  regards  him  as  somewhat  perilous." 

"  Nay,  madam,  if  my  Lord  of  Shrewsbury  be  satis- 
fied with  him,  so  surely  ought  I  to  be,"  said  Sir  Ealf 

Nothing  more  of  importance  passed  that  night. 
The  packet  of  accounts  was  handed  over  to  Sir 
Andrew  Melville,  and  the  two  gentlemen  dismissed 
with  gracious  good-nights. 

Eichard  Talbot  was  entirely  trusted,  and  when  the 
next  morning  after  prayers,  breakfast,  and  a  turn  among 
the  stables,  it  was  intimated  that  the  Queen  was  ready 
to  see  him  anent  my  Lord's  business.  Sir  Ealf  Sadler, 
who  had  his  week's  report  to  write  to  the  Council, 
requested  that  his  presence  might  be  dispensed  with, 
and  thus  Mr.  Talbot  was  ushered  into  the  Queen's  closet 
without  any  witnesses  to  their  interview  save  Sir 
Andrew  Melville  and  Marie  de  Courcelles.  The 
Queen  was  seated  in  a  large  chair,  leaning  against 
cushions,  and  evidently  in  a  good  deal  of  pain,  but,  as 
Eichard  made  his  obeisance,  her  eyes  shone  as  she 
quoted  two  lines  from  an  old  Scotch  ballad — 

"  *  ]\Iadame,  liow  does  my  gay  goss  hawk  ? 
Madame,  how  does  my  doo  ? ' 

Now  can  I  hear  what  I  hunger  for ! " 


XX.]  WINGFIELD  MANOE.  285 

"  My  gay  gosshawk,  madam,  is  flown  to  join  Sir 
Francis  Drake  at  Plymouth,  and  taken  his  little 
brother  witli  him.  I  come  now  from  speeding  them 
as  far  as  Derby." 

"  Ah  !  you  must  not  ask  me  to  pray  for  success  to 
them,  my  good  sir,  — only  that  there  may  be  a  time 
when  nations  may  be  no  more  divided,  and  I  fear  me 
we  shall  not  live  to  see  it.  And  my  doo — my  little 
Cis,  did  she  weep  as  became  a  sister  for  the  bold 
laddies  ? " 

"  She  wept  many  tears,  madam,  but  we  are  sore 
perplexed  by  a  matter  that  I  must  lay  before  your 
Grace.  My  Lady  Countess  is  hotly  bent  on  a  match 
between  the  maiden  and  young  Babington." 

"  Babington ! "  exclaimed  the  Queen,  with  the 
lioness  sparkle  in  her  eye.  "  You  refused  the  fellow 
of  course  ? " 

"  Flatly,  madam,  but  your  Grace  knows  that  it  is 
ill  making  the  Countess  accept  a  denial  of  her  will." 

Mary  laughed  "  Ah  ha  !  methought,  sir,  you  looked 
somewhat  as  if  you  had  liad  a  recent  taste  of  my  Lord 
ol  Shrewsbury's  dove.  But  you  are  a  man  to  hold 
your  ov/u  sturdy  will.  Master  Eichard,  let  Lord  or 
Lady  say  what  they  choose." 

"  I  trust  so,  madam,  I  am  master  of  mine  own 
house,  and,  as  I  shoukl  certainly  not  give  mine  own 
daughter  to  Babington,  so  shall  I  guard  your  Grace's." 

"  You  would  not  give  the  child  to  him  if  she  were 
your  own  ? " 

"  No,  madam." 

"  And  wherefore  not  ?  Because  he  is  too  much 
inclined  to  tlie  poor  prisoner  and  her  faith  ?  Is  it  so, 
sir  ?  " 

"  Your  Grace  speaks  the  truth  in  part,"  said  Richard, 


286  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

and  then  with  effort  added,  "  and  likewise,  madam, 
with  your  pardon,  I  would  say  that  though  I  verily 
believe  it  is  nobleness  of  heart  and  spirit  that 
inclines  poor  Antony  to  espouse  your  Grace's  cause, 
there  is  to  my  mind  a  shallowness  and  indiscretion 
about  his  nature,  even  when  most  in  earnest,  such  as 
would  make  me  loath  to  commit  any  woman,  or  any 
secret,  to  his  charge." 

"  You  are  an  honest  man,  Mr.  Talbot,"  said 
Mary ;  "  I  am  glad  my  poor  maid  is  in  your  charge. 
Tell  me,  is  tliis  suit  on  his  part  made  to  your 
daughter  or  to  the  Scottish  orphan  ? " 

"  To  the  Scottish  orphan,  matlam.  Thus  much  he 
knows,  though  by  what  means  I  cannot  tell,  unless 
it  be  through  that  kinsman  of  mine,  who,  as  I 
told  your  Grace,  saw  the  babe  tiie  night  I  brought 
her  in." 

"  Doubtless,"  responded  Mary.  "  Take  care  he 
neither  knows  more,  nor  hints  what  he  doth  know  to 
the  Countess." 

"  So  far  as  I  can,  I  will,  madam,"  said  Eichard, 
"  but  his  tongue  is  not  easy  to  silence ;  I  marvel  that 
he  hath  not  let  the  secret  ooze  out  already." 

"  Proving  him  to  have  more  discretion  than  you 
gave  him  credit  for,  my  good  sir,"  said  the  Queen, 
smiling.  "  Eefuse  him,  however,  staunchly,  grounding 
your  refusal,  if  it  so  please  you,  on  the  very  causes 
for  which  I  should  accept  him,  were  the  lassie  verily 
what  lie  deems  her,  my  ward  and  kinswoman.  Nor 
do  you  accede  to  him,  whatever  word  or  token  he  may 
declare  that  he  brings  from  me,  imless  it  bear  this  mark," 
and  she  hastily  traced  a  peculiar-twisted  form  of  M. 
**  You  know  it  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  have   seen  it,  madam,"  said  Eichard,  gravely, 


XX.]  WINGFIELD  MANOR.  287 

for  he  knew  it  as  the  letter  which  had  been  traced  on 
the  child's  shoulders. 

"  Ah,  good  Master  Eichard,"  she  said,  with  a  sweet 
and  wistful  expression,  looking  up  to  his  face  in  plead- 
ing, and  changing  to  the  familiar  pronoun,  "  thou  likest 
not  my  charge,  and  I  know  that  it  is  hard  on  an  up- 
right man  like  thee  to  have  all  this  dissembling  thrust 
on  thee,  but  what  can  a  poor  captive  motlier  do  but 
strive  to  save  her  child  from  an  unworthy  lot,  or  from 
captivity  like  her  own  ?  I  ask  thee  to  say  nought, 
that  is  all,  and  to  shelter  the  maid,  who  hath  been  as 
thine  own  daughter,  yet  a  little  longer.  Thou  wilt  not 
deny  me,  for  her  sake." 

"  Madam,  I  deny  nothing  that  a  Christian  man  and 
my  Queen's  faithful  servant  may  in  honour  do.  Your 
Grace  has  the  right  to  choose  your  own  daughter's  lot, 
and  with  her  I  will  deal  as  you  direct  me.  But, 
madam,  were  it  not  well  to  bethink  yourself  whether 
it  be  not  a  perilous  and  a  cruel  policy  to  hold  out  a 
bait  to  nourish  hope  in  order  to  bind  to  your  service  a 
foolish  though  a  generous  youth,  whose  devotion  may, 
after  all,  work  you  and  himself  more  ill  than  good  ?" 

Mary  looked  a  good  deal  struck,  and  waved  back 
her  two  attendants,  who  were  both  startled  and  offended 
at  what  Marie  de  Courcelles  described  as  the  English- 
man's brutal  boldness. 

"  Silence,  dear  friends,"  said  she.  "  Would  that  I 
had  always  had  counsellors  who  would  deal  witli  me 
with  such  honour  and  disinterestedness.  Then  should 
I  not  be  here." 

However,  she  then  turned  her  attention  to  the 
accounts,  where  Sir  Andrew  Melville  was  ready  to 
question  and  debate  every  item  set  down  by  Shrews- 
bury's   steward ;    while    his    mistress   showed   herself 


288  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY,  [CHAP. 

liberal  and  open-handed.  Indeed  she  had  considerable 
command  of  money  from  her  French  dowry,  the  proceeds 
of  which  were,  in  spite  of  the  troubles  of  the  League, 
regularly  paid  to  her,  and  no  doubt  served  her  well  in 
maintaining  the  correspondence  which,  throughout  her 
captivity,  eluded  the  vigilance  of  her  keepers.  On 
taking  leave  of  her,  which  Eichard  Talbot  did  before 
joining  his  host  at  the  mid-day  meal,  she  reiterated  her 
thanks  for  his  care  of  her  daughter,  and  her  charges  to 
let  no  persuasion  induce  him  to  consent  to  Babington's 
overtures,  adding  that  she  hoped  soon  to  obtain  per- 
mission to  have  the  maiden  amongst  her  authorised 
attendants.  She  gave  him  a  billet,  loosely  tied  with 
black  floss  silk  and  unsealed,  so  that  if  needful,  Sadler 
and  Shrewsbury  might  both  inspect  the  tender,  playful, 
messages  she  wrote  to  her  "  migiioime,"  and  which  she 
took  care  should  not  outrun  those  which  she  had  often 
addressed  to  Bessie  Pierrepoiut. 

Cicely  was  a  little  disappointed  when  she  first 
opened  the  letter,  but  ere  long  she  bethought  herself 
of  the  directions  she  had  received  to  hold  such  notes 
to  the  fire,  and  accordingly  she  watched,  waiting  even 
till  the  next  day  before  she  could  have  free  and  soli- 
tary access  to  either  of  the  two  fires  in  the  house, 
those  in  the  liall  and  in  the  kitchen. 

At  last,  while  the  master  was  out  farming,  Ned  at 
school,  and  the  mistress  and  all  her  maids  engaged  in 
the  unsavoury  occupation  of  making  candles,  by  re- 
peated dipping  of  rushes  into  a  caldron  of  melted 
fat,  after  the  winter's  salting,  she  escaped  under  pre- 
text of  attending  to  the  hall  fire,  .md  kneeling  beside 
the  glowing  embers,  she  held  the  paper  over  it,  and  soon 
saw  pale  yellow  characters  appear  and  deepen  into  a  sort 
of  brown  or  green,  in  which  she  read,  "  My  little  jewel 


XX.]  WINGFIELD  MANOR.  289 

must  share  the  ring  witli  none  less  precious.  Yet  be 
not  amazed  if  commendations  as  from  me  be  brought 
thee.  Jewels  are  sometimes  useful  to  dazzle  the  eyes 
of  those  who  shall  never  possess  them.  Therefore 
seem  not  cold  nor  over  coy,  so  as  to  take  away  all 
hope.  It  may  be  much  for  my  service.  Thou  arc 
discreet,  and  thy  good  guardians  will  hinder  all  from 
going  too  far.  It  might  be  well  that  he  should  deem 
thee  and  me  inclined  to  what  they  oppose.  Be  secret. 
Keep  thine  own  counsel,  and  let  them  not  even  guess 
what  thou  hast  here  read.  So  fare  thee  well,  with 
my  longing,  yearning  blessing." 

Cicely  hastily  hid  the  letter  in  the  large  house- 
wifely pocket  attached  to  her  girdle,  feeling  excited 
and  important  at  having  a  real  secret  unguessed  by 
any  one,  and  yet  experiencing  some  of  the  reluctance 
natural  to  the  pupil  of  Susan  Talbot  at  the  notion  of 
acting  a  part  towards  Babington.  She  really  liked 
him,  and  her  heart  w^armed  to  him  as  a  true  friend  of 
her  much-injured  mother,  so  that  it  seemed  the  more 
cruel  to  delude  him  with  false  hopes.  Yet  here  was 
she  asked  to  do  a  real  service  to  her  mother  ! 

Poor  Cis,  she  knelt  gazing  perplexed  into  the 
embers,  now  and  then  touching  a  stick  to  make  them 
glow,  till  Nat,  the  chief  of  "the  old  blue  bottles  of  servino-- 
men,"  came  in  to  lay  the  cloth  for  dinner,  exclaiming, 
"  So,  Mistress  Cis !  Madam  doth  cocker  thee  truly, 
letting  thee  dream  over  the  coals,  till  thy  face  be  as 
red  as  my  Lady's  new  farthingale,  while  she  is  toiling 
away  like  a  very  scullion." 


290  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOKY.  [CHAP. 


CHAPTEE    XXT. 

A   TANGLE. 

It  was  a  rainy  November  afternoon.  Dinner  was  over, 
the  great  wood  fire  had  been  made  up,  and  Mistress 
Talbot  was  presiding  over  the  womenfolk  of  her  house- 
hold and  their  tasks  with  needle  and  distaff.  She 
had  laid  hands  on  her  unwilling  son  Edward  to  show 
his  father  how  well  he  could  read  the  pUce  de  resistance 
of  the  family,  Fabyan's  Chronicle ;  and  the  boy,  with 
an  elbow  firmly  planted  on  either  side  of  the  great  folio, 
was  floundering  through  the  miseries  of  King  Stephen's 
time  ;  while  Mr.  Talbot,  after  smoothing  the  head 
of  his  largest  hound  for  some  minutes,  had  leant  back 
in  his  chair  and  dropped  asleep.  Cicely's  hand  tardily 
drew  out  her  thread,  her  spindle  scarcely  balanced  itself 
on  the  floor,  and  her  maiden  meditation  was  in  an  in- 
active sort  of  way  occupied  with  the  sense  of  dulness 
after  the  summer  excitements,  and  wonder  whether  her 
greatness  were  all  a  dream,  and  anything  would  happen 
to  recall  her  once  more  to  be  a  princess.  The  kitten  at 
her  feet  took  the  spindle  for  a  lazily  moving  creature, 
and  thought  herself  fascinating  it,  so  she  stared  hard, 
with  only  an  occasional  whisk  of  the  end  of  her  striped 
tail;  and  Mistress  Susan  was  oiily  kept  awake  by  her 
anxiety  to  adapt  Diccon's  last  year's  jerkin  to  Ned's  use 


XXL]  A  TANGLE.  291 

Suddenly  the  dogs  outside  bayed,  the  dogs  inside 
pricked  their  ears,  Ned  joyfully  halted,  his  father  uttered 
the  unconscious  falsehood,  "  I'm  not  asleep,  lad,  go  on," 
then  woke  up  as  horses'  feet  were  heard ;  Ned  dashed 
out  into  the  porch,  and  was  in  time  to  hold  the  horse 
of  one  of  the  two  gentlemen,  who,  with  cloaks  over  their 
heads,  had  ridden  up  to  the  door.  He  helped  them 
off  with  their  cloaks  in  the  porch,  exchanging  greetings 
with  William  Cavendish  and  Antony  Babington. 

"  Will  Mrs.  Talbot  pardon  our  riding- boots  ?"  said 
the  former.  "  We  have  only  come  down  from  the 
Manor-house,  and  we  rode  mostly  on  the  grass." 

Their  excuses  were  accepted,  though  Susan  had 
rather  Master  William  had  brought  any  other  com- 
panion. However,  on  such  an  afternoon,  almost  any 
variety  was  welcome,  especially  to  the  younger  folk, 
and  room  was  made  for  them  in  the  circle,  and  accord- 
ing to  the  hospitality  of  the  time,  a  cup  of  canary 
fetched  for  each  to  warm  him  after  the  ride,  while 
another  was  brought  to  the  master  of  the  house  to 
pledge  them  in — a  relic  of  the  barbarous  ages,  when 
such  a  security  was  needed  that  the  beverage  was  not 
poisoned. 

Will  Cavendish  then  explained  that  a  post  had 
come  that  morning  to  his  stepfather  from  Wingfield, 
having  been  joined  on  the  way  by  Babington  (people 
always  preferred  travelling  in  companies  for  security's 
sake),  and  that,  as  there  was  a  packet  from  Sir  Ealf 
Sadler  for  Master  Eichard,  he  had  brought  it  down, 
accompanied  by  his  friend,  who  was  anxious  to  pay  his 
devoirs  to  the  ladies,  and  though  Will  spoke  to  the 
mother,  he  smiled  and  nodded  comprehension  at  the 
daughter,  who  blushed  furiously,  and  set  her  spindle 
to  twirl  and  leap  so  violently,  as  to  make  the  kitten 


292  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

believe  the  creature  had  taken  friglit,  and  was  going  to 
escape.  On  she  dashed  with  a  sudden  spring,  in- 
volving herself  and  it  in  the  flax.  The  old  v/atch-dog 
roused  himself  with  a  growl  to  keep  order,  Cicely  flung 
herself  on  the  cat,  Antony  hurried  to  the  rescue  to 
help  her  disentangle  it,  and  received  a  fierce  scratch 
for  his  pains,  which  made  him  start  back,  while  Mrs. 
Talbot  put  in  her  word.  "  Ah,  Master  Babiugton,  it  is 
ill  meddling  with  a  cat  in  the  toils,  specially  for  men 
folk  !  Here,  Cis,  hold  her  fast  and  I  will  soon  have 
her  free.      Still,  Tib  ! 

Cicely's  cheeks  were  of  a  still  deeper  colour  as  she 
held  fast  the  mischievous  favourite,  while  the  good 
mother  untwisted  the  flax  from  its  little  claws  and 
supple  limbs,  while  it  winked,  twisted  its  head  about 
sentimentally,  purred,  and  altogether  wore  an  air  of 
injured  innocence  and  forgiveness. 

"I  am  afraid,  sir,  you  receive  nothing  but  damage 
at  our  house,"  said  Mrs.  Talbot  politely.  "  Hast  drawn 
blood  ?  Oh  fie  !  thou  ill-mannered  Tib !  Will  you 
have  a  tuft  from  a  beaver  to  stop  the  blood  ?" 

"  Thanks,  madam,  no,  it  is  a  small  scratch.  1 
would,  I  would  that  I  could  face  truer  perils  for  this 
lady's  sake  ! " 

"That  I  hope  you  will  not,  sii,"  said  Eichard,  in  a 
serious  tone,  which  conveyed  a  meaning  to  the  ears  of 
the  initiated,  though  Will  Cavendish  only  laughed,  and 
said, 

'•■  Our  kinsman  takes  it  gravely  !  It  was  in  the 
days  of  our  grandfathers  that  ladies  could  tlirow  a 
glove  among  the  lions,  and  bid  a  knight  fetch  it  out 
for  her  love." 

"  It  has  not  needed  a  lion  to  defeat  Mi.  Babington," 
observed  Ned,  looking  up  from  his  book  with  a  sober 


XXL]  A  TAXGLE.  293 

twinkle  id  his  eye,  which  set  them  all  laughing,  though 
his  father  declared  that  he  ought  to  have  his  ears 
boxed  for  ;i  malapert  varlet. 

Will  Cavendish  declared  that  the  least  the  fair 
damsel  could  do  for  her  knight-errant  was  to  bind  up 
liis  wounds,  but  Cis  was  too  shy  to  show  any  disposi- 
tion so  to  do,  and  it  was  Mrs.  Talbot  who  salved  the 
scratch  for  him.  She  had  a  feeling  for  the  motherless 
youth,  upon  whom  she  foreboded  that  a  fatal  game 
might  be  played. 

When  quiet  was  restored,  Mr.  Talbot  craved  license 
from  his  guests,  and  opened  the  packet.  There  was  a 
letter  for  Mistress  Cicely  Talbot  in  Queen  Mary's  well- 
known  beautiful  hand,  which  Antony  followed  with 
eager  eyes,  and  a  low  gasp  of  "  Ah  !  favoured  maiden," 
making  the  good  mother,  who  overheard  it,  say  to  her- 
self, "  Methinks  his  love  is  chiefly  for  the  maid  as 
something  appertaining  to  the  Queen,  though  he  wots 
not  how  nearly.  His  heart  is  most  for  the  Queen  her- 
self, poor  lad." 

The  maiden  did  not  show  any  great  haste  to  open 
the  letter,  being  aware  that  the  true  gist  of  it  could 
only  be  discovered  in  private,  and  her  father  was 
studying  his  own  likewise  in  silence.  It  was  from 
Sir  Ealf  Sadler  to  request  that  Mistress  Cicely  might 
be  permitted  to  become  a  regular  member  of  the  house- 
hold. There  was  now  a  vacancy  since,  though  Mra 
Curll  was  nearly  as  much  aboiit  the  Queen  as  ever,  it 
was  as  the  secretary's  wife,  not  as  one  of  the  maiden 
attendants  ;  and  Sir  Ealf  wrote  that  he  wished  the  more 
to  profit  by  the  opportunity,  as  he  might  soon  be  dis- 
placed by  some  one  not  of  a  temper  greatly  to  consider 
the  prisoner's  wishes.  Moreover,  he  said  the  poor  lady 
was  ill  at  ease,  and  much  dejected  at  the  tenor  of 


294  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOKY.  [CHAP. 

her  late  letters  from  Scotland,  and  that  she  had  said 
repeatedly  that  nothing  would  do  her  good  hut  the 
presence  of  her  pretty  playfellow.  Sir  Kalf  added 
assurances  that  he  would  watch  over  the  maiden  like 
his  own  daughter,  and  would  take  the  utmost  care 
of  the  faith  and  good  order  of  all  \rithin  his  house- 
hold. Curll  also  wrote  hy  order  of  his  mistress  a  formal 
application  for  the  young  lady,  to  which  Mary  had 
added  in  her  own  hand,  "  I  thank  the  good  Master 
Eichard  and  Mrs.  Susan  beforehand,  for  I  know  they 
will  not  deny  me." 

Eefusal  was,  of  course,  impossible  to  a  mother  who 
had  every  right  to  claim  her  own  child  ;  and  there  was 
nothing  to  be  done  but  to  fix  the  time  for  setting  off: 
and  Cicely,  who  had  by  this  time  read  her  own  letter, 
or  at  least  all  that  was  on  the  surface,  looked  up  trem- 
ulous, with  a  strange  frightened  gladness,  and  said, 
"  Mother,  she  needs  me." 

"  I  shall  shortly  be  returning  home,"  said  Antony, 
•'  and  shall  much  rejoice  if  I  may  be  one  of  the  party 
who  will  escort  this  fair  maiden." 

"  I  shall  take  my  daughter  myself  on  a  pillion,  sir," 
said  Eichard,  shortly. 

"  Then,  sir,  I  may  tell  my  Lord  that  you  purpose  to 
grant  this  request,"  said  Will  Cavendish,  who  had  ex- 
pected at  least  some  time  to  be  asked  for  deliberation, 
and  knew  his  mother  would  expect  her  permission  to 
be  requested. 

"  I  may  not  choose  but  do  so,"  replied  Eichard ;  and 
then,  thinking  he  might  have  said  too  much,  he  added, 
"  It  were  sheer  cruelty  to  deny  any  solace  to  the  poor 
lady." 

"  Sick  and  in  prison,  and  balked  by  her  only  son," 
added  Susan,  "  one's  heart  cannot  but  ache  for  her." 


XXI.]  A  TANGLE.  295 

"  Let  not  Mr.  Secretary  Walsingbam  hear  you  say 
so,  good  madam,"  said  Cavendish,  smiling.  In  Lon- 
don they  think  of  her  solely  as  a  kind  of  malicious 
fury  shut  up  in  a  cage,  and  tliere  were  those  who  looked 
askance  at  me  when  I  declared  tiiat  she  was  a  gentle- 
woman of  great  sweetness  and  kindness  of  demeanour. 
I  believe  myself  they  will  not  rest  till  they  have  her 
blood ! " 

Cis  and  Susan  cried  out  with  horror,  and  Babington 
with  stammering  wrath  demanded  whether  she  was  to  be 
assassinated  in  the  Spanish  fashion,  or  on  what  pretext 
a  charge  could  be  brought  against  her.  "  Well,"  Caven- 
dish answered,  "  as  the  saying  is,  give  her  rope  enough, 
and  she  will  hang  herself."  Indeed,  there's  no  doubt 
but  that  she  tampered  enough  with  Throckmorton's 
plot  to  have  been  convicted  of  misprision  of  treason, 
and  so  she  would  have  been,  but  that  her  most  sacred 
Majesty,  Queen  Elizabeth,  would  have  no  charge  made 
against  her. 

"  Treason  from  one  sovereign  to  another,  that  is  new 
law  !"  said  Babington. 

"  So  to  speak,"  said  Eichard ;  *'  but  if  she  claim  to 
be  heiress  to  the  crown,  she  must  also  be  a  subject. 
Heaven  forefend  that  she  should  come  to  the  throne  !" 

To  which  all  except  Cis  and  Babington  uttered  a 
hearty  amen,  while  a  picture  arose  before  the  girl  of 
herself  standing  beside  her  royal  mother  robed  in  velvet 
and  ermine  on  the  throne,  and  of  the  faces  of  Lady 
Shrewsbury  and  her  daughter  as  they  recognised  her, 
and  were  pardoned. 

Cavendish  presently  took  his  leave,  and  carried  the 
unwilling  Babington  off  with  him,  rightly  divining  that 
the  family  would  wish  to  make  their  arrangements 
alone.     To   Eichard's   relief,    Babington    had    brought 


296  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

him  no  private  message,  and  to  Cicely's  disappoint- 
ment, there  was  no  addition  in  sympprthetic  ink  to  her 
letter,  though  she  scorched  the  paper  brown  in  trying 
to  bring  one  out.  The  Scottisli  Queen  was  much  too 
wary  to  waste  and  risk  her  secret  expedients  without 
necessity. 

To  Eichard  and  Susan  this  was  the  real  resignation 
of  their  foster-child  into  the  hands  of  her  own  parent. 
It  was  true  that  she  would  still  bear  their  name,  and 
pass  for  their  daughter,  but  that  would  be  only  so  long 
as  it  might  suit  her  mother's  convenience ;  and  instead 
of  seeing  her  every  day,  and  enjoying  her  full  con- 
lidence  (so  far  as  they  knew),  she  would  be  out  of 
reach,  and  given  up  to  influences,  both  moral  and 
religious,  which  they  deeply  distrusted ;  also  to  a  fate 
looming  in  the  future  with  all  the  dark  uncertainty 
that  brooded  over  all  connected  with  Tudor  or  Stewart 
royalty. 

How  much  good  Susan  wept  and  prayed  that  night, 
only  her  pillow  knew,  not  even  her  husband ;  and  there 
was  no  particular  comfort  when  my  Lady  Countess 
descended  on  her  in  the  first  interval  of  fine  weather, 
full  of  wrath  at  not  having  been  consulted,  and  dis- 
charging it  in  all  sorts  of  predictions  as  to  Cis's  future. 
Xo  honest  and  loyal  husband  would  have  her,  after 
being  turned  loose  in  such  company ;  she  would  be 
corrupted  in  moials  and  manners,  and  a  disgrace  to  the 
Talbots ;  she  would  be  perverted  in  faith,  become  a 
Papist,  and  die  in  a  nunnery  beyond  sea ;  or  she  would 
be  led  into  plots  and  have  her  head  cut  off;  or  pressed 
to  death  by  the  i^eine  forte  et  dure. 

Susan  had  nothing  to  say  to  all  this,  but  that  her 
husband  thouglit  it  riglit,  and  tlien  had  a  little  vigor- 
ous advice  on  her  own  score  against  tamely  submitting 


XXI.]  A  TANGLE.  297 

to  any  man,  a  weakness  whicli  certainly  could  not  be 
laid  to  the  cbaroe  of  the  termagant  of  Hardwicke. 

Cicely  herself  was  glad  to  go.  She  loved  her 
mother  witli  a  rojjiantic  enthusiastic  affection,  missed 
her  engaging  caresses,  and  felt  her  Bridgefield  home 
eminently  dull,  flat,  and  even  severe,  especially  since 
she  had  lost  the  excitement  of  Humfrey's  presence, 
and  likewise  her  companion  Diccon.  So  she  made  her 
preparations  with  a  joyful  alacrity,  wliich  secretly 
pained  her  good  foster-parents,  and  made  Susan  almost 
ready  to  reproach  her  with  ingratitude. 

Tliey  lectured  her,  after  the  fashion  of  the  time,  on 
the  need  of  never  forgetting  her  duty  to  her  God  in 
her  affection  to  her  mother,  Susan  trusting  that  she 
would  never  let  herself  be  led  away  to  the  Eomish 
faith,  and  Eichard  warning  her  strongly  against  untruth 
and  falsehood,  though  she  must  be  exposed  to  cruel 
perplexities  as  to  the  right — "  But  if  tliou  be  true  to 
man,  thou  wilt  be  true  to  GJod,"  he  said.  "  If  thou  be 
false  to  man,  thou  wilt  soon  be  false  to  thy  God  like- 
wise." 

"  We  will  pray  for  thee,  child,"  said  Susan.  "  Do 
thou  pray  earnestly  for  thyself  that  thou  mayest  ever 
see  the  right." 

"  My  queen  mother  is  a  right  j)ious  woman.  She 
is  ever  praying  and  reading  holy  books,"  said  Cis. 
"  Mother  Susan,  1  marvel  you,  wlio  know  her,  can  speak 
tlms." 

"  Nay,  child,  I  would  not  lessen  tliy  love  and  duty 
to  her,  poor  soul,  but  it  is  not  even  piety  in  a  mother 
that  can  keep  a  maiden  from  temptation.  I  blame  not 
her  in  warning  thee." 

Kichard  himself  escorted  the  damsel  to  her  new 
home.     There  was  no  preventing  their  being  joined  by 


298  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

Babington,  who,  being  well  acquainted  v/itli  the  road, 
and  being  also  known  as  a  gentleman  of  good  estate, 
was  able  to  do  much  to  make  their  journey  easy  to 
them,  and  secure  good  accommodation  for  them  at  the 
inns,  though  Mr.  Talbot  entirely  baffled  his  attempts  to 
make  them  his  guests,  and  insisted  on  bearing  a  full 
share  of  the  reckoning.  Neither  did  Cicely  fulfil  her 
mother's  commission  to  show  herself  inclined  to  accept 
his  attentions.  If  she  had  been  under  contrar}^  orders, 
there  would  have  been  some  excitement  in  going  as  far 
as  she  durst,  but  the  only  effect  on  her  was  embarrass- 
ment, and  she  treated  Antony  with  the  same  sliy  stiff- 
ness she  had  shown  to  Humfrey,  during  the  earlier  part 
of  his  residence  at  home.  Besides,  she  clung  more 
and  more  to  her  adopted  father,  who,  now  that  they 
were  away  from  home  and  he  was  about  to  part  with 
her,  treated  her  with  a  tender,  chivalrous  deference, 
most  winning  in  itself,  and  making  her  feel  herself  no 
longer  a  child. 

Arriving  at  last  at  Wingfield,  Sir  Ealf  Sadler  had 
hardly  greeted  them  before  a  messenger  was  sent  to 
summon  the  young  lady  to  the  presence  of  the  Queen 
of  Scots.  Her  welcome  amounted  to  ecstasy.  The 
Queen  rose  from  her  cushioned  invalid  chair  as  the 
bright  young  face  appeared  at  the  door,  held  out  her 
arms,  gathered  her  into  them,  and,  covering  her  with 
kisses,  called  her  by  all  sorts  of  tender  names  in  French 
and  Scottish. 

"  0  ma  mie,  my  lassie,  ma  fille,  mine  ain  wee  thing, 
how  sweet  to  have  one  bairn  who  is  mine,  mine  ain, 
whom  they  have  not  robbed  me  of,  for  thy  brother, 
ah,  thy  brother,  he  hath  forsaken  me !  He  is  made  of 
the  false  Darnley  stuff",  and  compacted  by  Knox  and 
Buchanan  and  the  rest,  and  he  will  not  stand  a  blast 


XXI.]  A  TANGLE.  299 

of  Queen  Elizabeth's  wrath  for  the  poor  mother  that 
bore  him.  Ay,  he  hath  betrayed  me,  and  deluded 
me,  my  child ;  he  hath  sold  me  once  more  to  the 
English  loons  !  I  am  set  faster  in  prison  than  ever, 
the  iron  entereth  into  my  soul.  Thou  art  but  daughter 
to  a  captive  queen,  who  looks  to  thee  to  be  her  one 
bairn,  one  comfort  and  solace." 

Cicely  responded  by  caresses,  and  indeed  felt  her- 
self more  than  ever  before  the  actual  daughter,  as  she 
heard  with  indignation  of  James's  desertion  of  his 
mother's  cause ;  but  Mary,  whatever  she  said  herself, 
would  not  brook  to  hear  her  speak  severely  of  him. 
"  The  poor  laddie,"  she  said,  "  he  was  no  better  than 
a  prisoner  among  those  dour  Scots  lords,"  and  she  de- 
scribed in  graphic  terms  some  of  her  own  experiences 
of  royalty  in  Scotland. 

The  other  ladies  all  welcomed  the  new-comer  as 
the  best  medicine  both  to  the  spirit  and  body  of  their 
Queen.  She  was  regularly  enrolled  among  the  Queen's 
maidens,  and  shared  their  meals.  Mary  dined  and 
supped  alone,  sixteen  dishes  being  served  to  her,  both 
on  "  fish  and  flesh  days,"  and  the  reversion  of  these  as 
well  as  a  provision  of  their  own  came  to  the  higher 
table  of  her  attendants,  where  Cicely  ranked  with  the 
two  Maries,  Jean  Kennedy,  and  Sir  Andrew  Melville. 
There  was  a  second  table,  at  which  ate  the  two  secre- 
taries, Mrs.  Curll,  and  Elizabeth  Curll,  Gilbert's  sister, 
a  most  faithful  attendant  on  the  Queen.  As  before, 
she  shared  the  Queen's  chamber,  and  there  it  was  tliat 
Mary  ask^d  her,  "  Well,  mignonne,  and  how  fares  it 
with  thine  ardent  suitor  ?  Didst  say  that  he  rode 
with  thee?" 

"  As  far  as  the  Manor  gat(js,  madam." 

"  And  what  said  he  ?     Was  he  very  pressing  ?" 


300  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CIIAP 

"Nay,  madani,  I  was  ever  with  my  father — Mr 
Talbot." 

"  And  he  keeps  the  poor  youth  at  arm's  length. 
Thine  other  swain,  the  sailor,  his  son,  is  gone  off"  once 
more  to  rob  the  Spaniards,  is  he  not  ? — so  there  is  the 
more  open  field." 

"  Ay  !  but  not  till  he  had  taught  Antony  a  lesson." 

The  Queen  made  Cis  tell  the  story  of  the  en- 
counter, at  which  she  was  much  amused.  "  So  my 
princess,  even  unknown,  can  make  hearts  beat  and 
swords  ring  for  her.  Well  done  !  thou  art  worthy 
to  be  one  of  the  maids  in  Perceforest  or  Amadis  de 
Gaul,  who  are  bred  in  obscurity,  and  set  all  the  knights 
a  sparring  together.  Tourneys  are  gone  out  since  my 
poor  gude-father  perished  by  mischance  at  one,  or  we 
would  set  thee  aloft  to  be  contended  for." 

"  0  madame  mtre,  it  made  me  greatly  afraid,  and 
poor  Hunifrey  had  to  go  off  without  leave-taking,  my 
Lady  Countess  was  so  wrathfuL" 

"  So  my  Lady  Countess  is  playing  our  game,  is  she 
Backiug  Babington  and  banishing  Talbot  ?  Ha,  ha," 
and  Mary  again  laughed  with  a  merriment  that  rejoiced 
the  faithful  ears  of  Jean  Kennedy,  under  her  bed- 
clothes, but  somewhat  vexed  Cicely.  "  Indeed,  madam 
mother,"  she  said,  "  if  I  must  wed  under  my  degree,  T 
had  rather  it  were  Humfrey  than  Antony  Babington." 

"  I  tell  thee,  simple  child,  thou  shalt  wed  neither. 
A  woman  does  not  wed  every  man  to  whom  she  gives 
a  smile  and  a  nod.  So  long  as  thou  bear'st  the  name 
of  this  Talbot,  he  is  a  good  watch-dog  to  hinder  Bab- 
ington from  winning  thee  :  but  if  my  Lady  Countess 
choose  to  send  the  swain  here,  favoured  by  her  to  pay 
his  court  to  thee,  why  then,  she  gives  us  the  best 
chance  we  have  had  for  many  a  long  day  of  holding 


XXI.]  A  TANGLE.  301 

intercourse  with  our  friends  without,  and  a  hope  of 
thee  will  bind  him  the  more  closely." 

"  He  is  all  yours,  heart  and  soul,  already,  madam." 

"  I  know  it,  child,  but  men  are  men,  and  no  cliains 
are  so  strong  as  can  be  forged  by  a  lady's  lip  and  eye,  if 
she  do  it  cunningly.  So  said  my  helle  mh^e  in  France, 
aud  well  do  I  believe  it.  Why,  if  one  of  the  sour- 
visaged  reformers  who  haunt  this  place  chanced  to 
have  a  daughter  with  sweetness  enough  to  temper  the 
acidity,  the  youth  might  be  throwing  up  his  cap  the 
next  hour  for  Queen  Bess  and  the  Eeformation,  unless 
we  can  tie  him  down  with  a  silken  cable  while  he  is 
in  the  mind." 

"  Yea,  madam,  you  who  are  beautiful  and  winsome, 
you  can  do  such  things,  I  am  homely  and  awkward." 

"  Mort  de  ma  vie,  child !  the  beauty  of  the  best  of 
us  is  in  the  man's  eyes  who  looks  at  us.  'Tis  true, 
thou  hast  more  of  the  Border  lassie  than  the  princess. 
The  likeness  of  some  ewe-milking,  cheese-making 
sonsie  Hepburn  hath  descended  to  thee,  and  hath  been 
fostered  by  country  breeding.  But  thou  hast  by  nature 
the  turn  of  the  neck,  and  the  tread  that  belong  to 
our  Lorraine  blood,  the  blood  of  Charlemagne,  and 
now  that  I  have  thee  altogether,  see  if  I  train  thee  not 
so  as  to  bring  out  the  princess  that  is  in  thee ;  and  so, 
good-night,  my  bairnie,  my  sweet  child ;  I  shall  sleep 
to-night,  now  that  I  have  thy  warm  fresh  young  cheek 
beside  mine.     Thou  art  life  to  me,  my  little  one." 


302  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOEY.  [CHAP. 


CHAPTEK   XXII. 

TUTBURY. 

James  VL  again  cruelly  tore  his  mothers  heart  and 
dashed  her  hopes  by  an  unfeeling  letter,  in  which  he 
declared  her  incapable  of  being  treated  with,  since  she 
was  a  prisoner  and  deposed.  The  not  unreasonable 
expectation,  that  his  manhood  might  reverse  the  pro- 
ceedings wrought  in  his  name  in  his  infancy,  was 
frustrated.  Mary  could  no  longer  believe  that  he  was 
constrained  by  a  faction,  but  perceived  clearly  that 
he  merely  considered  her  as  a  rival,  whose  liberation 
would  endanger  his  throne,  and  that  whatever  scruples 
he  might  once  have  entertained  had  given  way  to 
English  gold  and  Scottish  intimidation, 

"  The  more  simple  was  I  to  look  for  any  other  in 
the  son  of  Darnley  and  the  pupil  of  Buchanan,"  said 
she,  "  but  a  motlier's  heart  is  slow  to  give  up  her 
trust." 

"  And  is  there  now  no  hope  ?"  asked  Cicely. 

"  Hope,  child  ?  Diim  sjnro,  spero.  The  hope  of 
coming  forth  honourably  to  him  and  to  Elizabeth  is  at 
an  end.  There  is  another  mode  of  coming  forth,"  she 
added  with  a  glittering  eye,  "  a  mode  which  shall  make 
them  rue  that  they  liave  driven  patience  to  extremity." 

"  By  force  of  arms  ?     Oh,  madam  !"  cried  Cicely. 


XXII.]  TUTBURY.  303 

"  And  wherefore  not  ?  ]\Iy  noble  kinsman,  Guise, 
is  the  paramount  ruler  in  France,  and  will  soon  have 
crushed  the  heretics  there  ;  Parma  is  triumphant  in 
the  Low  Countries,  and  has  only  to  tread  out  the  last 
remnants  of  faction  with  his  iron  boot.  They  wait  only 
the  call,  which  my  motherly  weakness  has  delayed,  to 
bring  their  hosts  to  avenge  my  wrongs,  and  restore 
this  island  to  the  true  faith.  Then  thou,  child,  wilt 
be  my  heiress.  We  will  give  thee  to  one  who  will 
worthily  bear  the  sceptre,  and  make  thee  blessed  at 
home.  The  Austrians  make  good  husbands,  I  am  told. 
Matthias  or  Albert  would  be  a  noble  mate  for  thee ; 
only  thou  must  be  trained  to  more  princely  bearing, 
my  little  home-bred  lassie." 

In  spite — nay,  perhaps,  in  consequence — of  these 
anticipations,  an  entire  change  began  for  Cicely.  It 
was  as  if  all  the  romance  of  her  princely  station  had 
died  out  and  the  reality  had  set  in.  Her  freedom  was 
at  an  end.  As  one  of  the  suite  of  the  Queen  of  Scots, 
she  was  as  much  a  prisoner  as  the  rest ;  whereas  before, 
both  at  Buxton  and  Sheffield,  she  had  been  like  a  dog 
or  kitten  admitted  to  be  petted  and  played  with,  but 
living  another  life  elsewhere,  while  now  there  was 
nothing  to  relieve  the  weariness  and  monotony  of  the 
restraint. 

Nor  was  the  petting  what  it  was  at  first.  Mary 
was  far  from  being  in  the  almost  frolicsome  mood  which 
had  possessed  her  at  Buxton ;  her  hopes  and  spirits 
had  sunk  to  the  lowest  pitch,  and  though  she  had  an 
admirably  sweet  and  considerate  temper,  and  was 
scarcely  ever  fretful  or  unreasonable  with  her  attend- 
ants, still  depression,  illness,  and  anxiety  could  not  but 
tell  on  her  mode  of  dealin<]j  with  her  surrouudincis 
Sometimes  she   gave  way  entirely,  and  declared  she 


304  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

should  waste  away  and  perish  in  her  captivity,  and 
that  she  only  brought  misery  and  destruction  on  all 
who  tried  to  befriend  her  ;  or,  again,  that  she  knew 
that  Burghley  and  Walsingham  were  determined  to 
have  her  blood. 

It  was  in  these  moments  that  Cicely  loved  her  most 
warmly,  for  caresses  and  endearments  soothed  her,  and 
the  grateful  affection  which  received  them  would  be 
very  sweet.  Or  in  a  higher  tone,  she  would  trust 
that,  if  she  were  to  perish,  she  might  be  a  martyr  and 
confessor  for  her  Church,  though,  as  she  owned,  the 
sacrifice  would  be  stained  by  many  a  sin ;  and  she 
betook  herself  to  the  devotions  which  then  touched 
her  daughter  more  than  in  any  other  respect. 

INIore  often,  however,  her  indomitable  spirit  resorted 
to  fresh  schemes,  and  chafed  fiercely  and  hotly  at 
thought  of  her  wrongs ;  and  this  made  her  the  more 
critical  of  all  that  displeased  her  in  Cicely. 

Much  that  had  been  treated  as  charming  and  amus- 
ing when  Cicely  was  her  plaything  and  her  visitor  was 
now  treated  as  unbecoming  English  rusticity.  The 
Princess  Bride  must  speak  French  and  Italian,  perhaps 
Latin ;  and  the  girl,  whose  literary  education  had 
stopped  short  when  she  ceased  to  attend  Master 
Sniggius's  school,  was  made  to  study  her  Cicero  once 
more  with  the  almoner,  who  was  now  a  French  priest 
named  De  Preaux,  while  Queen  Mary  herself  heard 
her  read  French,  and,  though  always  good-natured, 
was  excruciated  by  her  pronunciation. 

Moreover,  Mary  was  too  admirable  a  needlewoman 
not  to  wish  to  make  her  daughter  the  same ;  whereas 
Cicely's  turn  had  always  been  for  the  department  of 
housewifery,  and  she  could  make  a  castle  in  pastry  far 
better  than  in  tapestry  ;   but  where  Queen  Mary  had 


XXII.]  TUTBURY.  305 

a  whole  service  of  cooks  and  pantlers  of  her  own,  this 
accomplisliment  was  uncalled  for,  and  was  in  fa(;t 
considered  undignified.  She  had  to  sit  still  and  learn 
all  the  embroidery  stitches  and  lace -making  arts 
brought  by  Mary  from  the  Court  of  France,  till  her 
eyes  grew  weary,  her  heart  faint,  and  her  young  limbs 
acned  for  the  freedom  of  Bridgefield  Pleasaunce  and 
Sheffield  Park. 

Her  mother  sometimes  saw  her  weariness,  and 
would  try  to  enliven  her  by  setting  her  to  dance,  but 
here  poor  Cicely's  untaught  movements  were  sure  to 
incur  reproof;  and  even  if  they  had  been  far  more 
satisfactory  to  the  beholders,  what  refreshment  were 
they  in  comparison  with  gathering  cranberries  in  the 
park,  or  holding  a  basket  for  Ned  in  the  apple-tree  ? 
Mrs.  Kennedy  made  no  scruple  of  scolding  her  roundly 
for  fretting  in  a  month  over  what  the  Queen  had  borne 
for  full  eighteen  years. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  poor  Cicely,  "  but  she  had  always  been 
a  queen,  and  was  used  to  being  mewed  up  close  ! " 

And  if  this  was  the  case  at  Wingfield,  how  much 
more  was  it  so  at  Tutbury,  whither  Mary  was  removed 
in  January.  The  space  was  far  smaller,  and  the  rooms 
were  cold  and  damp ;  there  was  much  less  outlet,  the 
atmosphere  was  unwholesome,  and  the  furniture  in- 
sufficient. Mary  was  in  bed  witli  rheumatism  almost 
from  the  time  of  her  arrival,  but  she  seemed  thus  to 
become  the  more  vigilant  over  lier  daughter,  and  dis- 
tressed by  her  shortcomings.  If  the  Queen  did  not 
take  exercise,  the  suite  were  not  supposed  to  require 
any,  and  indeed  it  was  never  desired  by  her  elder 
ladies,  but  to  the  country  maiden  it  was  absolute 
punishment  to  be  thus  shut  up  day  after  day.  Neithei 
Sir   Ealf  Sadler  nor   his   colleague,   Mr.   Somer,  had 

X 


306  UNKXOWx\  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

brought  a  wife  to  share  the  cliarge,  so  that  there  was 
none  of  the  neutral  ground  afforded  by  intercourse 
with  the  ladies  of  the  Talbot  family,  and  at  first  the 
only  variety  Cicely  ever  had  was  the  attendance  at 
chapel  on  the  other  side  of  the  court. 

It  was  remarkable  that  Mary  discouraged  all 
proselytising  towards  the  Protestants  of  her  train,  and 
even  forbore  to  make  any  open  attempt  on  her 
daughter's  faith.  "  Cela  viendra,"  she  said  to  Marie 
de  Courcelles.  "  The  sermons  of  M.  le  Pasteur  will 
do  more  to  convert  her  to  our  side  than  a  hundred 
controversial  arguments  of  our  excellent  Abb^  ;  and 
when  the  good  time  comes,  one  High  Mass  will  be 
enough  to  win  her  over." 

"  Alas  !  when  shall  we  ever  again  assist  at  the 
Holy  Sacrifice  in  all  its  glory !"  sighed  the  lady. 

"  Ah,  my  good  Courcelles  !  of  what  have  you  not 
deprived  yourself  for  me !  Sacrifice,  ah !  truly  you 
share  it  !  But  for  the  child,  it  would  give  needless 
offence  and  difhculty  were  she  to  embrace  our  holy 
faith  at  present.  She  is  simple  and  impetuous,  and 
has  not  yet  sufficiently  outgrown  the  rude  straight- 
forward breeding  of  the  good  housewife,  Madam  Susan, 
not  to  rush  into  open  confession  of  lier  faith,  and  then  ! 
oh  the  fracas  !  The  wicked  wolves  would  have  stolen 
a  precious  lamb  from  M.  le  Pasteur's  fold !  Master 
Richard  would  be  sent  for !  Our  restraint  would  be  the 
closer  !  Moreover,  even  when  the  moment  of  freedom 
strikes,  who  knows  that  to  find  her  of  their  own  reh- 
gion  may  not  win  us  favour  with  the  English  ?" 

So,  from  whatever  motive,  Cis  remained  unmolested 
in  her  religion,  save  by  the  weariness  of  the  contro- 
versial sermons,  during  which  the  young  lady  con- 
trived to  abstract  her  mind  pretty  completely.     If  in 


XXII.]  TUTBURY.  307 

good  spirits  she  would  construct  airy  castles  for  her 
Archduke ;  if  dispirited,  she  yearned  with  a  homesick 
feeling  for  Bridgefield  and  Mrs.  Talbot.  There  waS 
something  in  the  firm  sober  wisdom  and  steady  kind- 
ness of  that  good  lady  which  inspired  a  sense  of  con- 
fidence, for  which  no  caresses  nor  brilliant  auguries 
could  compensate. 

Weary  and  cramped  she  was  to  the  point  of  having 
a  feverish  attack,  and  on  one  slightly  delirious  night 
she  fretted  piteously  after  "  mother,"  and  shook  off  the 
Queen's  hand,  entreating  that  "mother,  real  mother," 
would  come.  Mary  was  much  pained,  and  declared 
that  if  the  child  were  not  better  the  next  day  she  should 
have  a  messenger  sent  to  summon  Mrs.  Talbot.  How- 
ever, she  was  better  in  the  morning ;  and  the  Queen, 
who  had  been  making  strong  representations  of  the 
unhealthiness  and  other  inconveniences  of  Tutbury, 
received  a  promise  that  she  should  change  her  abode 
as  soon  as  Chartley,  a  house  belonging  to  the  young 
Earl  of  Esse.x,  could  be  prepared  for  her. 

The  giving  away  large  alms  had  always  been  one 
of  her  great  solaces — not  that  she  was  often  permitted 
any  personal  contact  with  the  poor :  only  to  sit  at  a 
window  watching  them  as  they  flocked  into  the  court, 
to  be  relieved  by  her  servants  under  supervision  from 
some  ofticer  of  her  warders,  so  as  to  hinder  any  surrep- 
titious communication  from  passing  between  them. 
Sometimes,  however,  the  poor  would  accost  her  or  her 
suite  as  she  rode  out ;  and  she  had  a  great  compassion 
for  them,  deprived,  as  she  said,  of  the  alms  of  the 
religious  houses,  and  flogged  or  branded  if  hunger  forced 
tliem  into  beggary.  On  a  fine  spring  day  Sir  lialf 
Sadler  invited  the  ladies  out  to  a  hawking  i)arty  on 
the  banks  of  the  Dove,  with  the  little  sparrow  hawks. 


308  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

whose  prey  was  specially  larks.  Pity  for  the  beautiful 
soaring  songster,  or  for  the  young  ones  that  might  be 
istarved  in  their  nests,  if  the  parent  birds  were  killed, 
had  not  then  been  thought  of.  A  gallop  on  the  moors, 
though  they  were  strangely  dull,  gray,  and  stony, 
was  always  the  best  remedy  for  the  Queen's  ailments ; 
and  the  party  got  into  the  saddle  gaily,  and  joyously 
followed  the  chase,  thinking  only  of  the  dexterity  and 
beauty  of  the  flight  of  pursuer  and  pursued,  instead 
of  the  deadly  terror  and  cruel  death  to  which  they 
condemned  the  crested  creature,  the  very  proverb  for 
joyousness. 

It  was  during  the  halt  which  followed  the  slaughter 
of  one  of  the  larks,  and  the  reclaiming  of  the  hawk, 
that  Cicely  strayed  a  little  away  from  the  rest  of  the 
party  to  gather  some  golden  willow  catkins  and  sprays 
of  white  sloe  thorn  wherewith  to  adorn  a  beaupot  that 
might  cheer  the  dull  rooms  at  Tutbury. 

She  had  jumped  down  from  her  pony  for  the  pur- 
pose, and  was  culling  the  branch,  when  from  the  copse- 
wood  that  clothed  the  gorge  of  the  river  a  ragged 
woman,  with  a  hood  tied  over  her  head,  came  forward 
with  outstretched  hand  asking  for  alms. 

"  You  may  have  something  from  the  Queen  anon, 
Goody,  when  I  can  get  back  to  her,"  said  Cis,  not  much 
liking  the  looks  or  the  voice  of  the  woman. 

"And  have  you  nothing  to  cross  the  poor  woman's 
hand  with,  fair  mistress  ?"  returned  the  beggar.  "  She 
brought  you  fair  fortune  once ;  how  know  you  but  she 
can  bring  you  more  ?" 

And  Cicely  recognised  the  person  who  had  haunted 
her  at  Sheftield,  Tideswell,  and  Buxton,  and  whom  she 
had  heard  pronounced  to  be  no  woman  at  all. 

"I  need  no  fortune   of  your    bringing,"  she   said 


Xill.]  TUTBURY.  309 

proudly,  and  trying  to  get  nearer  the  rest  of  the  party, 
heartily  wishing  she  was  on,  not  off,  her  little  rough  pony. 

"  My  young  lady  is  proud,"  said  her  tormentor, 
fixing  on  her  the  little  pale  eyes  she  so  much  dis- 
liked. "  She  is  not  one  of  the  maidens  who  would 
thank  one  who  can  make  or  mar  her  life,  and  cast 
spells  that  can  help  her  to  a  princely  husband  or  leave 
Ler  to  a  prison." 

"  Let  go,"  said  Cicely,  as  she  saw  a  retaining  hand 
laid  on  her  pony's  bridle ;  "  I  will  not  be  beset  thus  " 

"And  this  is  your  gratitude  to  her  who  helped  you 
to  lie  in  a  queen's  bosom ;  ay,  and  who  could  aid  you 
to  rise  higher  or  fall  lower  ?" 

"  I  owe  nothing  to  you,"  said  Cicely,  too  angry  to 
think  of  prudence.     "  Let  me  go  ! " 

There  was  a  laugh,  and  not  a  woman's  laugh.  "You 
owe  nothing,  quoth  my  mistress  ?  Not  to  one  who  saw 
you,  a  drenched  babe,  brought  in  from  the  wreck,  and 
who  gave  the  sign  which  has  raised  you  to  your  present 
honours  ?      Beware  !" 

By  this  time,  however,  the  conversation  had  at- 
tracted notice,  and  several  riders  were  coming  towards 
them. 

There  was  an  immediate  change  of  voice  from  the 
threatening  tone  to  the  beggar's  whine ;  but  the  words 
were — "  I  must  have  my  reward  ere  I  speak  out." 

"  What  is  this  ?  A  masterful  beggar  wife  besetting 
TMistress  Talbot,"  said  Mr.  Somer,  who  came  first. 

"  I  had  naught  to  give  her,"  said  Cicely. 

'•  She  should  have  the  lash  for  thus  frightening  you," 
said  Somer.  "  Yonder  lady  is  too  good  to  such  vaga- 
bonds, and  they  come  about  us  in  swarms.  Stand 
back,  woman,  or  it  may  be  the  worse  for  you.  Let  me 
help  you  to  your  horse.  Mistress  Cicely." 


310  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP 

Instead  of  obeying,  the  seeming  woman,  to  gain 
time  perhaps,  began  a  story  of  woe ;  and  Mr.  Somer, 
being  anxious  to  remount  the  young  lady,  did  not 
immediately  stop  it,  so  tliat  before  Cis  was  in  her 
saddle  the  Queen  had  ridden  up,  with  Sir  Ralf  Sadler 
a  little  behind  her.  There  were  thus  a  few  seconds 
free,  in  which  the  stranger  sprang  to  the  Queen's  bridle 
and  said  a  few  hasty  words  almost  inaudibly,  and  as  Cis 
thought,  in  French ;  but  they  were  answered  aloud  in 
English — "  My  good  woman,  I  know  all  that  you  can 
tell  me,  and  more,  of  this  young  lady's  fortune.  Here 
are  such  alms  as  are  mine  to  give  ;  but  hold  your  peace, 
and  quit  us  now." 

Sir  Ealf  Sadler  and  his  son-in-law  both  looked 
suspicious  at  this  interview,  and  bade  one  of  the 
grooms  ride  after  the  woman  and  see  what  became  of 
her,  but  the  fellow  soon  lost  sight  of  her  in  the  broken 
ground  by  the  river-side. 

When  the  party  reached  home,  there  was  an 
anxious  consultation  of  the  inner  circle  of  confidantes 
over  Cicely's  story.  Neitlier  she  nor  the  Queen  had 
the  least  doubt  that  the  stranger  was  Cutlibert  Lang- 
ston,  who  had  been  employed  as  an  agent  of  hers  for 
many  years  past ;  his  insignificant  stature  and  colour- 
less features  eminently  fitting  him  for  it.  No  con- 
cealment was  made  now  that  he  was  the  messenger 
with  the  beads  and  bracelets,  which  were  explained  to 
refer  to  some  ivory  beads  which  had  been  once  placed 
among  some  spars  purchased  by  the  Queen,  and  which 
Jean  had  recognised  as  part  of  a  rosary  belonging  to 
poor  Alison  Hepburn,  the  nurse  who  had  carried  the 
babe  from  Lochleven.  This  liad  opened  the  way  to 
the  recovery  of  her  daughter.  Mary  and  Sir  Andrew 
Melville  had  always  held  him  to  be  devotedly  faithful, 


XXII.]  TUTBUKY.  3  H 

but  there  had  certainly  been  something  of  greed,  and 
something  of  menace  in  his  language  which  excited 
anxiety.  Cicely  was  sure  that  his  expressions  •  con- 
veyed that  he  really  knew  her  royal  birth,  and  meant 
to  threaten  her  with  the  consequences,  but  the  few 
who  had  know^n  it  were  absolutely  persuaded  that 
this  was  impossible,  and  believed  that  he  could  only 
surmise  that  she  was  of  more  importance  than  an 
archer's  daughter. 

He  had  told  the  Queen  in  French  that  lie  was  in 
great  need,  and  expected  a  reward  for  his  discretion 
I'espectiug  what  he  had  brought  her.  And  when  he  per- 
ceived the  danger  of  being  overheard,  he  had  changed 
it  into  a  pleading,  "  I  did  but  tell  the  fair  young  lady 
that  T  could  cast  a  spell  that  would  bring  her  some 
good  fortune.      Would  her  Grace  hear  it  ?" 

"  So,"  said  Mary,  "  I  could  but  answer  him  as  I 
did,  Sadler  and  Somer  being  both  nigh.  I  gave  him 
my  purse,  with  all  there  was  therein.  How  much 
was  it,  Andrew  ? " 

"Five  golden  pieces,  besides  groats  and  testers, 
madam,"  replied  Sir  Andrew. 

"  If  he  come  again,  he  must  have  more,  if  it  can 
l)e  contrived  without  suspicion,"  said  the  Queen.  "  I 
fear  me  he  may  become  troublesome  if  he  guess  some- 
what, and  have  to  be  paid  to  hold  his  tongue." 

"  I  dread  worse  than  that,"  said  JMelville,  apart  to 
Jean  Kennedy ;  "  there  was  a  scunner  in  his  een  that 
I  mislikit,  as  though  her  Grace  had  offended  him. 
And  if  the  lust  of  the  penny-fee  hatli  possessed  him, 
'tis  but  who  can  bid  the  highest,  to  have  him  fast 
body  and  soul.  Those  lads  !  those  lads  !  Fve  seen  a 
mony  of  tliem.  They'll  begin  for  pure  love  of  the 
Queen  and  of  Holy  Church,  but  ye  see,  'tis  lying  and 


312  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY  [CHAP. 

falsehood  and  disguise  that  is  needed,  and  one  way 
or  other  they  get  so  in  love  with  it,  that  they  come  at 
last  to  lie  to  us  as  well  as  to  the  other  side,  and  then 
none  kens  where  to  have  them !  Cuthberc  has  been 
over  to  that  weary  Paris,  and  once  a  man  goes  there, 
he  leaves  his  truth  and  honour  behind  him,  and  ye 
kenna  whether  he  be  serving  you,  or  Queen  Elizabeth, 
or  the  deil  himsel'.  I  wish  I  could  stop  that  loon's 
thrapple,  or  else  wot  how  much  he  kens  anent  our 
Lady  Bride." 


xxiil]  the  love  token.  313 


CHAPTEE  XXIIL 

THE   LOVE   TOKEN. 

"Yonder  woman  came  to  tell  this  young  lady's 
fortune,"  said  Sir  Ealf,  a  few  days  later.  "  Did  she 
guess  what  I,  an  old  man,  have  to  bode  for  her !"  and 
he  smiled  at  the  Queen.  "  Here  is  a  token  I  was 
entreated  by  a  young  gentleman  to  deliver  to  this 
young  lady,  with  his  humble  suit  that  he  may  pay  his 
devoirs  to  her  to-morrow,  your  Grace  permitting." 

"  I  knew  not,"  said  Mary,  "  that  my  women  had 
license  to  receive  visitors." 

"Assuredly  not,  as  a  rule,  but  this  young  gentle- 
man, Mr.  Babington  of  Dethick,  has  my  Lord  and 
Lady  of  Shrewsbury's  special  commendation." 

"  I  knew  the  young  man,"  said  Mary,  with  perfectly 
acted  heedlessness.  "  He  was  my  Lady  Shrewsbury's 
page  in  his  boyhood.  I  should  have  no  objection  to 
receive  him." 

"  That,  madam,  may  not  be,"  returned  Sadler.  "  I 
am  sorry  to  say  it  is  contrary  to  the  orders  of  the 
council,  but  if  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Curll,  and  the  fair 
Mistress  Cicely,  will  do  me  the  honour  to  dine  with 
me  to-morrow  in  the  hall,  we  may  bring  about  the 
auspicious  meeting  my  Lady  desires." 

Cicely's  first  impulse  had  been  to  pout  and  say  she 


314  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOEY.  [CHAP. 

wanted  none  of  Mr.  Babington's  tokens,  nor  liis  com- 
pany ;  but  her  mother's  eye  held  her  back,  and  besides 
any  sort  of  change  of  scene,  or  any  new  face,  could  not 
but  be  deliglitful,  so  there  was  a  certain  leap  of  the 
young  heart  when  the  invitation  was  accepted  for  her ; 
and  she  let  Sir  Ealf  put  the  token  into  her  hand,  and 
a  choice  one  it  was.  Everybody  pressed  to  look  at  it, 
while  she  stood  blushing,  coy  and  unwilling  to  display 
the  small  egg-shaped  watch  of  the  kind  recently  in- 
vented at  Nuremberg.  Sir  Ealf  observed  that  the 
young  lady  showed  a  comely  shamefast  maidenliness, 
and  therewith  bowed  himself  out  of  the  room. 

Cicely  laughed  with  impatient  scorn.  "  Well 
spoken,  reverend  seignior,"  she  said,  as  she  found 
herself  alone  with  the  Queen.  "  I  wish  my  Lady 
Countess  would  leave  me  alone.      I  am  none  of  hers." 

"  Nay,  mademoiselle,  be  not  thus  disdainful,"  said 
the  Queen,  in  a  gay  tone  of  banter;  "give  me  here 
this  poor  token  that  thou  dost  so  despise,  when  many 
a  maiden  would  be  distraught  with  delight  and  grati- 
tude.    Let  me  see  it,  I  say." 

And  as  Cicely,  restraining  with  difficulty  an  im- 
patient, uncourtly  gesture,  placed  the  watch  in  her  hand, 
her  delicate  deft  fingers  opened  the  case,  disregarding 
both  the  face  and  the  place  for  inserting  the  key ;  but 
dealing  with  a  spring,  which  revealed  that  the  case 
was  double,  and  that  between  the  two  thin  plates  of 
silver  which  formed  it,  was  inserted  a  tiny  piece  of 
the  thinnest  paper,  written  from  corner  to  corner  with 
the  smallest  characters  in  cipher.  Mary  laughed 
joyously  and  triumphantly  as  she  held  it  up.  "  There, 
mignonne  !  What  sayest  thou  to  thy  token  r  ow  ? 
This  is  the  first  secret  news  I  have  had  from  the 
outer   world   since  we  came  to   this  weary  Tutbury. 


XXIII.]  THE  LOVE  TOKEN.  315 

And  oh !  the  exquisite  jest  that  my  Lady  and  Sir 
Ealf  Sadler  should  be  the  bearers  !  I  always  knew 
some  good  would  come  of  that  suitor  of  thine  !  Thou 
must  not  flout  him,  my  fair  lady,  nor  scowl  at  him  so 
with  thy  beetle  brows." 

"  It  seems  but  hard  to  lure  him  on  with  false 
hopes,"  said  Cicely,  gravely. 

"  Hoots,  lassie,"  as  Dame  Jean  would  say,  "  'tis  but 
joy  and  delight  to  men  to  be  thus  tickled.  'Tis  the 
greatest  kindness  we  can  do  them  thus  to  amuse 
them,"  said  Mary,  drawing  up  her  head  with  the 
conscious  fascination  of  the  serpent  of  old  Nile,  and 
toying  the  while  with  the  ciphered  letter,  in  eagerness, 
and  yet  dread,  of  what  it  might  contain. 

Such  things  were  not  easy  to  make  out,  even  to 
those  who  had  the  key,  and  Mary,  unwilling  to  trust 
it  out  of  her  own  hands,  leant  over  it,  spelling  it  out 
for  many  minutes,  but  at  last  broke  forth  into  a  clear 
ringing  burst  of  girlish  laughter  and  clasped  her  hands 
together,  "  Mignonue,  miguonne,  it  is  too  rare  a  jest  to 
hold  back.  Deem  not  that  your  Highness  stands  first 
here  !  Oh  no  !  'Tis  a  letter  from  Bernardo  de  Mendoza 
with  a  proposition  for  whose  hand  thiukest  thou  ?  For 
this  poor  old  captive  hand  !  For  mine,  maiden.  Ay, 
and  from  whom  ?  From  his  Excellency,  the  Prince  of 
Parma,  Lieutenant  of  the  Netherlands.  Anon  will  he  be 
here  with  30,000  picked  men  and  the  Spanish  fleet; 
and  then  I  shall  ride  once  again  at  the  head  of  my  brave 
men,  hear  trumpets  bray,  and  see  banners  fly .'  We 
will  begin  to  work  our  banner  at  once,  child,  and  let 
Sir  Pvalf  think  it  is  a  bed-quilt  for  her  sacred  Majesty, 
Elizabeth.      Thou  look'st  dismayed,  little  maiden." 

"Spanish  ships  and  men,  madam,  ah  !  and  how  would 
it  be  with  my  father — Mr.  and  Mrs.  Talbot,  I  mean  ?" 


316  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

•'Not  a  hair  of  their  heads  shall  be  touche<3,  child. 
"We  will  send  down  a  chosen  troop  to  protect  them, 
with  Babington  at  its  head  if  thou  wilt.  But," 
added  the  Queen,  recollecting  herself,  and  perceiving 
that  she  had  startled  and  even  shocked  her  daughter, 
"  it  is  not  to  be  to-morrow,  nor  for  many  a  weary- 
month.  All  that  is  here  demanded  is  wliether,  all 
being  well,  he  might  look  for  my  hand  as  his  guerdon. 
Shall  I  propose  thine  instead  ?" 

"  0  madam,  he  is  an  old  man  and  full  of  gout !" 

"  Well !  we  will  not  pull  caps  for  him  just  yet. 
And  see,  thou  must  be  secret  as  the  grave,  child,  or 
thou  wilt  ruin  thy  mother.  I  ought  not  to  have  told 
thee,  but  the  surprise  was  too  much  for  me,  and  thou 
canst  keep  a  secret.  Leave  me  now,  child,  and  send 
me  Monsieur  Nau." 

The  next  time  any  converse  was  held  between 
mother  and  daughter,  Queon  Mary  said,  "  Will  it  grieve 
thee  much,  my  lassie,  to  return  this  bauble,  on  the 
plea  of  thy  duty  to  the  good  couple  at  Bridgefield?" 

After  all  Cicely  had  become  so  fond  of  the  curious 
and  ingenious  egg  that  she  was  rather  sorry  to  part 
with  it,  and  there  was  a  little  dismal  resignation  in  her 
answer,  "  I  will  do  your  bidding,  madam." 

"  Thou  shalt  have  a  better.  1  will  write  to 
Chateaunay  for  the  choicest  that  Paris  can  furnish," 
said  Mary,  "  but  seest  thou,  none  other  mode  is  so  safe 
for  conveying  an  answer  to  this  suitor  of  mine  !  Nay, 
little  one,  do  not  fear.  He  is  not  at  hand,  and  if  he 
be  so  gout-ridden  and  stern  as  I  have  heard,  we  will 
find  some  way  to  content  him  and  make  him  do  the 
service  without  giving  thee  a  stepfather,  even  though 
he  be  grandson  to  an  emperor." 

There  was  something  perplexing  and  distressing  to 


XXIII.]  THE  LOVE  TOKEN.  317 

Cis  in  this  sudden  mood  of  exultation  at  such  a  suitor. 
However,  Parma's  proposal  might  mean  liberty  and  a 
recovered  throne,  and  who  could  wonder  at  the  joy 
that  even  the  faintest  gleam  of  light  afforded  to  one 
whose  captivity  had  lasted  longer  than  Cicely's  young 
life  ? — and  then  once  more  there  was  an  alternation  of 
feeling  at  the  last  moment,  when  Cicely,  dressed  in 
hsr  best,  came  to  receive  instructions. 

"  I  ken  not,  I  ken  not,"  said  Mary,  speaking  the 
Scottish  tongue,  to  which  she  recurred  in  her  moments 
of  deepest  feeling,  "  I  ought  not  to  let  it  go.  I  ought 
to  tell  the  noble  Prince  to  have  naught  to  do  with  a 
being  like  me.  'Tis  not  only  the  jettatura  wherewith 
the  Queen  Mother  used  to  reproach  me.  Men  need 
but  bear  me  good  wiU,  and  misery  overtakes  them. 
Death  is  the  best  that  befalls  them !  The  gentle 
husband  of  my  girlhood — then  the  frantic  Chastelar, 
my  poor,  poor  good  Davie,  Darnley,  Bothwell,  Geordie 
Douglas,  young  Willie,  and  again  Norfolk,  and  the 
noble  and  knightly  Don  John  !  One  spark  of  love 
and  devotion  to  the  wretched  Mary,  and  all  is  over 
with  them !  Give  me  back  that  paper,  child,  and 
warn  Babington  against  ever  dreaming  of  aid  to  a 
wretch  like  me.  I  will  perish  alone  !  It  is  enough  ! 
]  will  drag  down  no  more  generous  spirits  in  the 
whirlpool  around  me." 

"  Madam  !  madam !"  exclaimed  De  Preaux  the 
almoner,  who  was  standing,  "this  is  not  like  your 
noble  self  Have  you  endured  so  much  to  be  faint- 
hearted when  the  end  is  near,  and  you  are  made  a 
smooth  and  polished  instrument,  welded  in  the  fire,  for 
the  triumph  of  the  Church  over  her  enemies?" 

"Ah,  Father!"  said  the  Queen,  "  how  should  not 
n.y   heart   fail   me   when  I  think  of  the  many  high 


318  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

spirits  who  have  fallen  for  my  sake  ?  Ay,  and  when 
I  look  out  on  yonder  peaceful  vales  and  happy  home- 
steads, and  think  of  them  ravaged  by  those  furious 
Spaniards  and  Italians,  whom  my  brother  of  Anjou 
himself  called  very  fiends  ! " 

"  Fiends  are  the  tools  of  Divine  wrath,"  returned 
Preaux.  "  Look  at  the  profaned  sanctuaries  and  out- 
raged convents  on  which  these  proud  English  have 
waxen  fat,  and  say  whether  a  heavy  retribution  be  not 
due  to  them." 

"  Ah,  father !  I  may  be  weak,  but  I  never  loved 
persecution.  King  Francis  and  I  were  dragged  to 
behold  the  executions  at  Amboise.  That  was  enough 
for  us.  His  gentle  spirit  never  recovered  it,  and  I — I 
see  their  contorted  visages  and  forms  still  in  my 
restless  nights ;  and  if  the  Spanish  dogs  should  deal 
with  England  as  with  Haarlem  or  Antwerp,  and  all 
through  me  ! — Oh  !  I  should  be  happier  dying  within 
these  walls  !" 

"Nay,  madam,  as  Queen  you  would  have  the  reins 
in  your  own  hand  :  you  could  exercise  what  wholesome 
severity  or  well -tempered  leniency  you  chose,"  urged 
the  almoner  ;  "  it  were  ill  requiting  the  favour  of 
the  saints  who  have  opened  this  door  to  you  at  last 
to  turn  aside  now  in  terror  at  the  phantasy  that  long 
weariness  of  spirit  hath  conjured  up  before  you." 

So  Mary  rallied  herself,  and  in  five  minutes  more 
was  as  eager  in  giving  her  directions  to  Cicely  and  to 
the  Curlls  as  though  her  heart  had  not  recently  failed 
her. 

Cis  was  to  go  forth  with  her  cliaperons,  not  by  any 
means  enjoying  the  message  to  Babington,  and  yet 
imable  to  help  being  very  glad  to  escape  for  ever  so 
short  a  time  from  the  dull  prison  apartments.      There 


XXIII.]  THE  LOVE  TOKEN.  319 

might  be  no  great  faith  in  her  powers  of  diplomacy, 
but  as  it  was  probable  that  Babington  w(hi1c1  have 
more  opportunity  of  conversing  with  her  than  with 
the  Curlls,  she  was  charged  to  attend  heedfully  to 
whatever  he  might  say. 

Sir  Half's  son-in-law,  Mr.  Somer,  was  sent  to  escort 
the  trio  to  the  hall  at  the  hour  of  noon ;  and  there, 
pacing  the  ample  chamber,  while  the  board  at  the 
upper  end  was  being  laid,  were  Sir  Ealf  Sadler  and 
his  guest  Mr.  Babiugton.  Antony  was  dressed  in 
green  velvet  slashed  with  primrose  satin,  setting  off  his 
good  mien  to  the  greatest  advantage,  and  he  came  up 
with  suppressed  but  rapturous  eagerness,  bowing  low 
to  Mrs.  Curll  and  the  secretary,  but  falling  on  his  knee 
to  kiss  the  hand  of  the  dark-browed  girl.  Her  recent 
courtly  training  made  her  much  less  rustically 
awkward  than  she  would  have  been  a  few  mouths 
before,  but  she  was  extremely  stiff,  and  held  her  head 
as  though  her  ruff  were  buckram,  as  she  began  her 
lesson.  "  Sir,  I  am  greatly  beholden  to  you  for  this 
token,  but  if  it  be  not  sent  with  the  knowledge  and 
consent  of  my  honoured  father  and  mother  I  may  not 
accept  of  it." 

"  Alas  !  that  you  will  say  so,  fair  mistress,"  said 
Antony,  but  he  was  probably  prepared  for  this  re- 
jection, for  he  did  not  seem  utterly  overwhelmed  by  it. 

"  The  young  lady  exercises  a  wise  discretion,"  said 
Sir  Ealf  Sadler  to  Mrs,  Curll.  "  If  I  had  known  that 
mine  old  friend  Mr.  Talbot  of  Bridgefield  was  un- 
favourable to  the  suit,  I  would  not  have  harboured 
the  young  spark,  but  when  he  brought  my  Lady 
Countess's  commendation,  I  thought  all  was  well." 

Barbara  Curll  had  her  cue,  namely,  to  occupy  Sir 
Ealf  so  as  to  leave  the  young  people  to  themselves,  so 


320  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

she  drew  him  off  to  tell  him  in  confidence  a  long  and 
not  particularly  veracious  story  of  the  objections  of 
the  Talbots  to  Antony  Babington ;  whilst  her  husban'l 
engaged  the  attention  of  Mr.  Somer,  and  there  was  a 
space  in  which,  as  Antony  took  back  the  watch,  he 
was  able  to  inquire  "  Was  the  egg-shell  opened  ? " 

"  Ay,"  said  Cis,  blushing  furiously  and  against  her 
will,  "  the  egg  was  sucked  and  replenished." 

"  Take  consolation,"  said  Antony,  and  as  some  one 
came  near  them,  "  Duty  and  discretion  shall,  I  trust, 
both  be  satisfied  when  I  next  sun  myself  ^n  the  light 
of  those  lovely  eyes."  Then,  as  the  coast  became 
more  clear,  "You  are  about  shortly  to  move.  Chart- 
ley  is  preparing  for  you." 

"  So  w^e  are  told." 

"  There  are  others  preparing,"  said  Antony,  bending 
over  her,  holding  her  hand,  and  apparently  making 
love  to  her  with  all  his  might.  "  Tell  me,  lady,  who 
hath  charge  of  the  Queen's  buttery  ?  Is  it  faithful 
old  Halbert  as  at  Sheffield?" 

"  It  is,"  replied  Cis. 

"  Then  let  him  look  well  at  the  bottom  of  each 
barrel  of  beer  supplied  for  the  use  of  her  household. 
There  is  an  honest  man,  a  brewer,  at  Burton,  whom 
Paulett  will  employ,  who  will  provide  that  letters  be 
sent  to  and  fro.  Gifford  and  Langstou,  who  are  both 
of  these  parts,  know  him  well."  Cis  started  at  the 
name.     "Do  you  trust  Langston  then?"  she  asked. 

"Wholly!  Why,  he  is  the  keenest  and  ablest  of 
us  all.  Have  you  not  seen  him  and  had  speech  with 
him  in  many  strange  shapes  ?  He  can  change  his 
voice,  and  whine  like  any  beggar  wife." 

"  Yea,"  said  Cis,  "  but  the  Queen  and  Sir  Andrew 
doubted  a  little  if  he  meant  not  threats  last  time  we  met." 


XXIII.]  THE  LOVE  TOKEN.  3?1 

"  All  put  on — excellent  dissembling  to  beguile  the 
keepers.  He  told  me  all,"  said  Antony,  "  and  how  he 
had  to  scare  thee  and  change  tone  suddenly.  Why, 
he  it  -is  who  laid  this  same  egg,  and  will  receive 
it.  There  is  a  sworn  baud,  as  you  know  already,  who 
will  let  her  know  our  plans,  and  be  at  her  com- 
mands through  that  means.  Then,  when  we  have 
done  service  approaching  to  be  worthy  of  her,  then 
it  may  be  that  I  shall  have  earned  at  least  a  look  or 
sign." 

"Alas!  sir,"  said  Cicely,  "how  can  I  give  you 
Mse  hopes  ?"  For  her  honest  heart  burnt  to  tell  the 
poor  fellow  that  she  would  in  case  of  his  success 
be  farther  removed  from  him  than  ever. 

"  What  would  be  false  now  shall  be  true  then. 
I  will  wring  love  from  thee  by  my  deeds  for  her  whom 
we  both  alike  love,  and  then  wilt  thou  be  mine  own, 
my  true  Bride  !" 

By  this  time  other  guests  had  arrived,  and  the 
dinner  was  ready.  Babington  was,  in  deference  to  the 
Countess,  allowed  to  sit  next  to  his  lady-love.  She 
found  he  had  been  at  Sheffield,  and  had  visited  Bridge- 
field,  vainly  endeavouring  to  obtain  sanction  to  his 
addresses  from  her  adopted  parents.  He  saw  how  her 
eyes  brightened  and  heard  how  her  voice  quivered  with 
eagerness  to  hear  of  what  still  seemed  home  to  her, 
and  he  was  pleased  to  feel  himself  gratifying  her  by 
telling  her  how  Mrs.  Talbot  looked,  and  how  Brown 
Dumpling  Iiad  been  turned  out  in  the  Park,  and  Mr. 
Talbot  had  taken  a  new  horse,  which  Ned  had  in- 
sisted on  calling  "  Fulvius,"  from  its  colour,  for  Ned 
was  such  a  scholar  that  he  was  to  be  sent  to  study  at 
Cambridge.  Then  he  would  liave  wandered  off  to 
little  Lady  Arbell's  being  put  under  Master  Sniggius'a 

Y 


322  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAr. 

tuition,  but  Cicely  would  bring  bim  back  to  Bridge- 
field,  and  to  Ned's  brotbers. 

No,  tbe  boasted  expedition  to  Spain  bad  not 
begun  yet.  Sir  Francis  Drake  was  lingering*  about 
Plymouth,  digging  a  ditch,  it  was  said,  to  bring  water 
from  Dartmoor.  He  would  nevei  get  license  to  attack 
King  Philip  on  his  own  shores.  The  Queen  knew 
better  than  to  give  it.  Humfrey  and  Diccon  would 
get  no  better  sport  than  robbing  a  ship  or  two  on  the 
wa}-  to  the  Netherlands.  Antony,  for  his  part,  could 
not  see  that  piracy  on  the  high  seas  was  fit  work  for 
a  gentleman. 

"  A  gentleman  loves  to  serve  his  queen  and  country 
in  all  places,"  said  Cicely. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Antony,  with  a  long  breath,  as  though 
making  a  discovery,  "  sits  the  wind  in  that  quarter  ? " 

"Antony,"  exclaimed  she,  in  her  eagerness  calling 
him  by  the  familiar  name  of  childhood,  "  you  are  in 
error.  I  declare  most  solemnly  that  it  is  quite  another 
matter  that  stands  in  your  way." 

"  And  you  will  not  tell  me  wherefore  you  are  thus 
cruel  r 

"  I  cannot,  sir.  You  will  understand  in  time  that 
what  you  call  cruelty  is  true  kindness." 

This  was  the  gist  of  the  interview.  All  the  rest 
only  repeated  it  in  one  form  or  another ;  and  when 
Cis  returned,  it  was  with  a  saddened  heart,  for  she 
could  not  but  perceive  that  Antony  was  well-nigh 
crazed,  not  so  much  with  love  of  her,  as  with  the  con- 
templation of  the  wrongs  of  the  Church  and  the  Queen, 
whom  he  regarded  with  equally  passionate  devotion, 
and  with  burning  zeal  and  indignation  to  avenge 
their  sufferings,  and  restore  them  to  their  pristine 
glory.     He  did,  indeed,  love  her,  as  he  professed  to 


XXIII.]  THE  LOVE  TOKEN.  323 

have  done  from  infancy,  but  as  if  she  were  to  he  his 
own  personal  portion  of  the  reward.  Indeed  there  was 
magnanimity  enough  in  the  youth  almost  to  lose  the 
individual  hope  in  the  dazzle  of  the  great  victory  for 
which  he  was  willing  to  devote  his  own  life  and  happi- 
ness in  the  true  spirit  of  a  crusader.  Cicely  did  not 
fully  or  consciously  realise  all  this,  but  she  had  such 
a  glimpse  of  it  as  to  give  her  a  guilty  feeling  in  con- 
cealing from  him  the  whole  truth,  which  would  have 
shown  how  fallacious  were  the  hopes  that  her  mother 
did  not  scruple,  for  her  own  purposes,  to  encourage. 
Poor  Cicely !  she  had  not  had  royal  training  enough  to 
look  on  all  subjects  as  simply  pawns  on  the  monarch's 
chess-board  ;  and  she  was  so  evidently  unhappy  over 
Babington's  courtship,  and  so  little  disposed  to  enjoy 
ber  first  feminine  triumph,  that  the  Queen  declared 
that  Nature  had  designed  her  for  the  convent  she  had 
so  narrowly  missed ;  and,  valuable  as  was  the  intelli- 
gence she  had  brought,  she  was  never  trusted  with 
the  contents  of  the  correspondence.  On  the  removal 
of  Mary  to  Chartley  the  barrel  with  the  false  bottom 
came  into  use,  but  the  secretaries  Nau  and  Curll  alone 
knew  in  full  what  was  there  conveyed.  Little  more 
was  said  to  Cicely  of  Babington. 

However,  it  was  a  relief  when,  before  the  end  of 
this  summer.  Cicely  heard  of  his  marriage  to  a  young 
lady  selected  by  the  Earl.  She  hoped  it  would  make 
him  forget  his  dangerous  inclination  to  herself;  but 
yet  there  was  a  little  lurking  vanity  which  believed 
that  it  had  been  rather  a  marriage  for  property's  than 
for  love's  sake. 


324  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHA> 


CHAPTEE  XXIV. 

A  LIONESS  jyT  BAY. 

It  was  in  the  middle  of  the  summer  of  1586  that 
Humfrey  and  his  young  brother  Eichard,  in  broad 
grass  hats  and  long  feathers,  found  tliemselves  again 
in  London,  Diccon  looking  considerably  taller  and 
leaner  than  when  he  went  away.  For  when,  after 
many  months'  delay,  the  naval  expedition  had  taken 
place,  he  had  been  laid  low  with  fever  during  the  attack 
on  Florida  by  Sir  Francis  Drake's  little  fleet ;  and  the 
return  to  England  had  been  only  just  in  time  to  save 
his  life.  Though  Humfrey  had  set  forth  merely  as  a 
lieuteinnt,  he  had  returned  in  command  of  a  vessel,  and 
stood  in  high  repute  for  good  discipline,  readiness  of 
resource,  and  personal  exploits.  His  ship  had,  how- 
ever, suffered  so  severely  as  to  be  scarcely  seaworthy 
when  the  fleet  arrived  in  Plymouth  harbour ;  and  Sir 
Francis,  finding  it  necessary  to  put  her  into  dock  and 
dismiss  her  crew,  had  chosen  the  young  Captain 
Talbot  to  ride  to  London  with  his  despatches  to  her 
Majesty. 

The  commission  might  well  delight  the  brothers, 
Avho  were  burning  to  hear  of  home,  and  to  know  how 
it  fared  with  Cicely,  having  been  absolutely  without 
intelligence  ever  since  they  had  sailed  from  Plymouth 


XXIV.]  A  LIONESS  AT  BAY.  325 

in  January,  since  wliicli  they  had  plundered  the 
Spaniard  both  at  home  and  in  the  West  Indies,  but 
had  had  no  letters. 

They  rode  post  into  London,  taking  their  last  change 
of  horses  at  Kensington,  on  a  fine  June  evening,  when 
the  sun  was  mounting  high  upon  the  steeple  of  St. 
Paul's,  and  speeding  through  the  fields  in  hopes  oi" 
being  able  to  reach  the  Strand  in  time  for  supper  at 
Lord  Shrewsbury's  mansion,  which,  even  in  the  absence 
of  my  Lord,  was  always  a  harbour  for  all  of  the  name 
of  Talbot.  Nor,  indeed,  was  it  safe  to  be  out  after 
dark,  for  the  neighbourhood  of  the  city  was  full  of 
roisterers  of  all  sorts,  if  not  of  highwaymen  and  cut- 
purses,  who  might  come  in  numbers  too  large  even  for 
the  two  young  gentlemen  and  the  two  servants,  who 
remained  out  of  the  four  volunteers  from  Bridgefield. 

They  were  just  passing  Westminster  where  the 
Abbey,  Hall,  and  St.  Stephen's  Chapel,  and  their  pre- 
cincts, stood  up  in  their  venerable  but  unstaiued  beauty 
among  the  fields  and  fine  trees,  and  some  of  the 
Westminster  boys,  flat -capped,  gowned,  and  yellow - 
stockinged,  ran  out  with  the  cry  that  always  flattered 
Diccon,  not  to  say  Humfrey,  though  he  tried  to  be 
superior  to  it,  "  Mariners !  mariners  from  the  Western 
Main  !  Hurrah  for  gallant  Drake  !  Down  with  the 
Don  !"  Tor  the  tokens  of  the  sea,  in  the  form  of 
clothes  and  w^eapons,  were  well  known  and  higiily 
esteemed. 

Two  or  three  gentlemen  who  were  walking  along 
the  road  turned  and  looked  up,  and  the  young  sailors 
recognised  in  a  moment  a  home  face.  There  was  an 
exclamation  on  either  side  of  "  Antony  Babington !" 
and  "  Humfrey  Talbot !"  and  a  ready  clasp  of  the  hand 
in  right  of  old  companionship. 


326  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOKY.  [CHAP. 

"  Welcome  home  !"  exclaimed  Antony.  "  Is  all  well 
with  you  ?" 

"  Eoyally  well,"  returned  Humfrey.  "  Know'st  thou 
aught  of  our  father  and  mother  ?" 

"  All  was  well  with  them  when  last  I  heard  "  said 
Antony. 

"  And  Cis — my  sister  I  mean  ?"  said  Diccon,  putting, 
in  liis  unconsciousness,  the  very  question  Ilumfrey  was 
burning  to  ask. 

"  She  is  still  with  the  Queen  of  Scots,  at  Chartley," 
replied  Babington. 

"  Chartley,  where  is  that  ?  It  is  a  new  place  for 
her  captivity." 

"  'Tis  a  house  of  my  Lord  of  Essex,  not  far  from 
Licl  *.*.'''d,"  returned  Antony.  "  They  sent  her  thither 
this  spring,  after  they  had  well-nigh  slain  her  with  the 
damp  and  wretched  lodgings  they  provided  at  Tutbury." 

"Who?     Not  our  Cis?"  asked  Diccon. 

"  Nay,"  said  Antony,  "  it  hurt  not  her  vigorous 
youth — but  I  meant  the  long-suffering  princess." 

"  Hath  Sir  Ealf  Sadler  still  the  charge  of  her  ?" 
inquired  Ilumfrey. 

"  No,  indeed.  He  was  too  gentle  a  jailer  for  the 
Council.  They  have  given  her  Sir  Amias  Panlett,  a 
mere  Puritan  and  Leicestrian,  who  is  as  hard  as  the 
nether  millstone,  and  weU-nigh  as  dull,"  said  Babing- 
ton, with  a  little  significant  chuckle,  which  perhaps 
alarmed  one  of  his  companions,  a  small  slight  man 
with  a  slight  halt,  clad  in  black  like  a  lawyer.  "  Mr. 
Babington,"  he  said,  "  pardon  me  for  interrupting 
you,  but  we  sliall  make  Mr.  Gage  tarry  supper 
for  us." 

"Nay,  Mr.  Langston,"  said  Baliington,  who  was  in 
high  spirits,  "  these  are  kinsmen  of  your  own,  sons  of 


XXIV.]  A  LIONESS  AT  BAY.  327 

Mr.  Eicliard  Talbot  of  Bridgefield,  to  whom  you  have 
often  told  me  you  were  akin." 

Mr.  Langston  was  thus  compelled  to  come  forward, 
shake  hands  with  the  young  travellers,  welcome  them 
home,  and  desire  to  be  commended  to  their  woithy 
parents ;  and  Babington,  in  the  exuberance  of  1*  s 
welcome,  named  his  other  two  companions — Mr. 
Tiehborne,  a  fine,  handsome,  graceful,  and  somewhat 
melancholy  young  man  ;  Captain  Fortescue,  a  bearded 
moustached  bravo,  in  the  height  of  the  fashion,  a  loug 
plume  in  his  Spanish  hat,  and  his  short  gray  cloak 
glittering  with  silver  lace.  Humfrey  returned  their 
salute,  but  was  as  glad  as  they  evidently  were  when 
they  got  Babington  away  with  them,  and  left  tie 
brothers  to  pursue  tlieir  way,  after  inviting  them  to 
come  and  see  him  at  his  lodgings  as  early  as  possible. 

"  It  is  before  supper,"  said  Diccon,  sagely,  "  or  I 
should  say  Master  Antony  had  been  acquainted  with 
some  good  canary." 

"  More  likely  he  is  uplifted  with  some  fancy  of  his 
own.  It  may  be  only  with  the  meeting  of  me  after 
our  encounter,"  said  Humfrey.  "  He  is  a  brave  fellow 
and  kindly,  but  never  did  craft  so  want  ballast  as  does 
that  pate  of  his  !" 

"  Humfrey,"  said  his  brother,  riding  nearer  to  him, 
"did  he  not  call  that  fellow  in  black,  Langston?" 

"  Ay,  Cuthbert  Langston.  I  have  heard  of  him. 
No  good  comrade  for  his  weak  brain." 

"  Humfrey,  it  is  so,  though  father  would  not  credit 
me.  I  knew  his  halt  and  his  eye — just  like  the 
venomous  little  snake  that  was  the  death  of  poor 
Foster.  He  is  the  same  with  the  witch  woman 
Tibbott,  ay,  and  with  her  with  the  beads  and  bracelets, 
who  beset  Cis  and  me  at  Buxton." 


328  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [(5HAP. 

Young  Diccon  had  proved  himself  on  the  voyage 
to  have  an  unerring  eye  for  recognition,  and  liis  brother 
gave  a  h3W  whistle.  "  I  fear  me  then  Master  Aiitony 
may  be  running  himself  into  trouble." 

"  See,  they  turn  in  mounting  the  steps  to  the  upper 
fence  of  yonder  house  with  the  deep  carved  balcony. 
Another  has  joined  them  !  I  like  not  his  looks.  He 
is  like  one  of  those  hardened  cavaliers  from  the 
Netherlands." 

"  Ay !  who  seem  to  have  left  pity  and  conscience 
behind  them  there,"  said  Humfrey,  looking  anxiously 
up  at  the  fine  old  gabled  house  with  its  projecting 
timbered  front,  and  doubting  inwardly  whether  it 
would  be  wise  to  act  on  his  old  playfellow's  invitation, 
yet  with  an  almost  sick  longing  to  know  on  what  terms 
the  youth  stood  with  Cicely. 

In  another  quarter  of  an  hour  they  were  at  the 
gateway  of  Shrewsbury  House,  where  the  porter  proved 
to  be  one  of  the  Sheffield  retainers,  and  admitted  them 
joyfully.  My  Lord  Earl  was  in  Yorkshire,  he  said, 
but  my  Lord  and  Lady  Talbot  were  at  home,  and 
would  be  fain  to  see  them,  and  there  too  was  Master 
William  Cavendish. 

Tliey  were  handed  on  into  the  courtyard,  where 
servants  ran  to  take  their  horses,  and  as  the  news 
ran  that  Master  Eichard's  sons  had  arrived  from  the 
Indies,  Will  Cavendish  came  running  down  the  hall 
steps  to  embrace  them  in  his  glee,  while  Lord  Talbot 
came  to  the  door  of  the  hall  to  welcome  them.  These 
great  London  houses,  which  had  not  quite  lost  their 
names  of  hostels  or  inns,  did  really  serve  as  free  lodg- 
ings to  all  members  of  the  family  who  might  visit 
town,  and  above  all  such  travellers  as  these,  bringing 
news  of  grand  national  achievements. 


XXIV.]  A  LIONESS  AT  BAY.  329 

Very  soon  after  Gilbert's  accession  to  the  heirship, 
quarrels  had  begun  between  his  wife  and  her  mother 
the  Countess. 

Lord  Talbot  had  much  of  his  father's  stately  grace, 
and  his  wife  was  a  finished  lady.  They  heartily 
welcomed  the  two  lads  who  had  grown  from  boys  to 
men.  My  lady  smilingly  excused  the  riding-gear,  and 
as  soon  as  the  dust  of  travel  had  been  removed  they 
were  seated  at  the  board,  and  called  on  to  tell  of  the 
galUmt  deeds  in  which  they  had  taken  part,  whilst 
they  heard  in  exchange  of  Lord  Leicester's  doings  in 
the  Netherlands,  and  the  splendid  exploits  of  the 
Stanleys  at  Zutphen. 

Lord  Talbot  promised  to  take  Humfrey  to  Eicli- 
mond  the  next  day,  to  be  presented  to  her  Majesty, 
so  soon  as  he  should  be  equipped,  so  as  not  to  lose 
his  character  of  mariner,  but  still  not  to  attront  her 
sensibilities  by  aught  of  uncourtly  or  unstudied  in  his 
ajjparel. 

They  confir-^ed  what  Babingtou  had  said  of  the 
Queen  of  Scots'  changes  of  residence  and  of  keepers. 
As  to  Cicely,  they  had  been  lately  so  little  at  Shetfield 
that  they  had  almost  forgotten  her,  but  they  thought 
that  if  slie  were  still  at  Chartley,  there  could  be  no 
objection  to  her  brothers  having  an  interview  with 
her  on  their  way  home,  if  they  chose  to  go  out  of  their 
road  for  it. 

Humfrey  mentioned  his  meeting  with  Babington 
in  Westminster,  and  Lord  Talbot  made  some  inquiries 
as  to  his  companions,  adding  that  there  were  strange 
stories  and  suspicions  afloat,  and  that  he  feared  that 
the  young  man  was  disaffected  and  was  consorting  with 
Popish  recusants.  Diccon's  tongue  was  on  the  alert  with 
his  observation,  but  at  a  sign  from  his  brother,  who  did 


330  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

not  wish  to  get  Babington  into  trouble,  he  \\'as  silent. 
Cavendish,  however,  laughed  and  said  he  ^^•as  for  ever 
in  Mr.  Secretary's  house,  and  even  had  a  room  there. 

Very  early  the  next  morning  the  body  servant  of 
his  Lordship  was  in  attendance  with  a  barber  and  the 
fashionable  tailor  of  the  Court,  and  in  good  time  Hum- 
frey  and  Diccon  were  arrayed  in  such  garments  as  were 
judged  to  suit  the  Queen's  taste,  and  to  become  tlie 
character  of  young  mariners  from  the  West.  Huinfrey 
had  a  dainty  jewel  of  shell-work  from  the  spoils  of 
Carthagena,  entrusted  to  him  by  Drake  to  present  to 
the  Queen  as  a  foretaste  of  what  was  to  come.  Lady 
Talbot  greatly  admired  its  novelty  and  beauty,  and 
thought  the  Queen  would  be  enchanted  with  it,  giving 
him  a  pretty  little  perfumed  box  to  present  it  in. 

Lord  Talbot,  well  pleased  to  introduce  his  spirited 
young  cousins,  took  them  in  his  boat  to  Eichmond, 
which  they  reached  just  as  the  evening  coolness  came 
on.  They  were  told  that  her  Majesty  was  walking 
in  the  Park,  and  thither,  so  soon  as  the  ruffs  had 
been  adjusted  and  the  fresh  Spanish  gloves  drawn  on, 
they  resorted. 

The  Queen  walked  freely  there  without  guards — 
without  even  swords  being  worn  by  the  gentlemen  in 
attendance- — loving  as  she  did  to  display  her  confidence 
in  her  people.  No  precautions  were  taken,  but  they 
were  allowed  to  gather  together  on  the  gi'eeusward  to 
watch  her,  as  among  the  beautiful  shady  trees  she 
paced  along. 

The  eyes  of  the  two  youths  w^ere  eagerly  directed 
towards  her,  as  they  followed  Lord  Talbot.  "Was  she 
not  indeed  the  cynosure  of  all  the  realm  ?  Did  she 
not  hold  the  heart  of  every  loyal  Englishman  by  an 
invisible  rein  ?     Was  not  her  favour  their  dream  and 


XXIV.]  A  LIONESS  AT  BAY.  331 

their  reward  ?  She  was  a  little  in  advance  of  her 
suite.  Her  hair,  of  that  light  sandy  tint  which  is  slow 
to  whiten,  was  built  up  in  curls  under  a  rich  stiff  coif, 
covered  with  silver  lace,  and  lifted  high  at  the  temples. 
Trom  this  a  light  gauze  veil  hung  round  her  shoulders 
and  over  her  splendid  standing  ruff,  which  stood  up 
like  the  erected  neck  ornaments  of  some  birds,  opening 
in  front,  and  showing  the  lesser  ruff  or  frill  encircling 
lier  throat,  and  terminating  a  lace  tucker  within  her 
low-cut  boddice.  Eich  necklaces,  the  jewel  of  the 
Garter,  and  a  whole  constellation  of  brilliants,  decorated 
her  bosom,  and  the  boddice  of  her  blue  satin  dress  and 
its  sleeves  were  laced  with  seed  pearls.  The  waist,  a 
very  slender  one,  was  encircled  with  a  gold  cord  and 
heavy  tassels,  the  farthingale  spread  out  its  magnificent 
proportions,  and  a  richly  embroidered  white  satin 
petticoat  showed  itself  in  front,  but  did  not  conceal 
the  active,  well-shaped  feet.  There  was  something 
extraordinarily  majestic  in  her  whole  bearing,  especially 
the  poise  of  her  head,  which  made  the  sj)ectator  never 
perceive  how  small  her  stature  actually  was.  Her  face 
and  complexion,  too,  were  of  the  cast  on  which  time  is 
slow  to  make  an  impression,  being  always  pale  and 
fair,  with  keen  and  delicately -cut  features;  so  that 
her  admirers  had  quite  as  much  reason  to  be  dazzled 
as  when  she  was  half  her  present  age  ;  nay,  perhaps 
more,  for  the  habit  of  command  had  added  to  the 
regality  which  really  was  her  principal  beauty.  Sir 
Christopher  Hatton,  with  a  handsome  but  very  small 
face  at  the  top  of  a  very  tall  and  portly  frame,  dressed 
in  the  extreme  of  foppery,  came  behind  her,  and  then 
a  bevy  of  ladies  and  gentlemen. 

As  the  Talbots  approached,  she  was  moving  slowly 
on,  unusually  erect  even  for  her,  and  her  face  com- 


332  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [cHAP. 

posed  to  severe  majesty,  like  that  of  a  judge,  the 
tawny  eyes  with  a  strange  gleam  in  them  fixed  on 
some  one  in  the  throng  on  the  grass  near  at  hand. 
Lord  Talbot  advanced  with  a  bow  so  low  that  he 
swept  the  ground  with  his  plume,  and  while  the  two 
youths  followed  his  example,  Diccon's  quick  eye  noted 
that  she  glanced  for  one  rapid  second  at  their  weapons, 
then  continued  her  steady  gaze,  never  withdrawing 
it  even  to  receive  Lord  Talbot's  salutation  as  he  knelt 
before  her,  though  she  said,  "  We  greet  you  well,  my 
good  lord.  .Are  not  we  well  guarded,  not  having  one 
man  with  a  sword  near  me  ?" 

"  Here  are  three  good  swords,  madam,"  returned  he, 
"  mine  own,  and  those  of  my  two  young  kinsmen,  whom 
I  venture  to  present  to  your  Majesty,  as  they  bear  greet- 
ings from  your,  trusty  servant.  Sir  Francis  Drake." 

While  he  spoke  there  had  been  a  by-play  unper- 
ceived  by  him,  or  by  the  somewhat  slow  and  tardy 
Hatton.  A  touch  from  Diccon  had  made  Humfrey 
follow  the  direction  of  the  Queen's  eye,  and  they  saw 
it  was  fixed  on  a  figure  in  a  loose  cloak  strangely 
resembling  that  which  they  had  seen  on  the  stair  of 
the  house  Babington  had  entered.  They  also  saw  a 
certain  quailing  and  cowering  of  the  form,  and  a  scowl 
on  the  shaggy  red  eyebrows,  and  Irish  features,  and 
Humfrey  at  once  edged  himself  so  as  to  come  between 
the  fellow  and  the  Queen,  though  he  was  ready  to 
expect  a  pistol  shot  in  his  back,  but  better  thus,  was 
his  thought,  than  that  it  should  strike  her, — and  both 
laid  tlieir  hands  on  their  swords. 

"  How  now ! "  said  Hatton,  "  young  men,  you  are 
over  prompt.  Her  Majesty  needs  no  swords.  You 
are  out  of  rank.     Fall  in  and  do  your  obeisance." 

Something  in  the  Queen's  relaxed  gaze  told  Hum- 


XXIV.]  A  LIONESS  AT  BAY.  333 

frey  that  the  peril  was  over,  and  that  he  might  kneel 
as  Talbot  named  him,  explaining  his  lineage  as  Eliza- 
beth always  wished  to  have  done.  A  sort  of  trenio^ 
passed  over  her,  but  slie  instantly  recalled  her  attention. 
"  From  Drake !"  she  said,  in  her  clear,  somewhat  shrill 
voice.  "  So,  young  gentleman,  you  have  been  with 
the  pirate  who  outruns  our  orders,  and  fills  our  brother 
of  Spain  with  malice  such  that  he  would  have  our  life 
by  fair  or  foul  means." 

"  That  shall  he  never  do  while  your  Grace  has 
English  watch-dogs  to  guard  you,"  returned  Talbot. 

"  The  Talbot  is  a  trusty  hound  by  water  or  by 
land,"  said  Elizabeth,  surveying  the  goodly  proportion 
of  the  elder  brother.  "  Whelps  of  a  good  litter,  though 
yonder  lad  be  somewhat  long  and  lean.  Well,  and 
how  fares  Sir  Erancis  ?  Let  him  make  his  will,  for 
the  Spaniards  one  day  will  have  his  blood." 

"  I  have  letters  and  a  token  from  him  for  your 
Grace,"  said  Humfrey. 

"  Come  then  in,"  said  the  Queen.  "  We  will  see 
it  in  the  bower,  and  hear  what  thou  wouldst  say." 

A  bower,  or  small  summer-house,  stood  at  the  end 
of  tlie  path,  and  here  she  took  her  way,  seating  herself 
on  a  kind  of  rustic  throne  evidently  intended  for  her, 
and  there  receiving  from  Humfrey  the  letter  and  the 
gift,  and  asking  some  questions  about  the  voyage  ;  but 
she  seemed  preoccupied  and  anxious,  and  did  not  show 
the  enthusiastic  approbation  of  her  sailors'  exploits 
winch  the  young  men  expected.  After  glancing  over 
it,  she  bade  them  carry  the  letter  to  Mr,  Secretary 
Walsingham  the  next  day  ;  nor  did  she  bid  the  party 
remain  to  supper;  but  as  soon  as  half  a  dozen  of  her 
gentlemen  pensioners,  who  had  been  summoned  by  hei 
orders,  came  up,  she  rose  to  return  to  the  palace. 


334  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CITAP. 

Yet,  to  Talbot's  surprise,  she  gavo  both  the  young 
men  her  hand  to  kiss,  and  even  hiid  it  upon  Humfrey's 
freshly  -  trimmed  head,  saying,  "  You  have  done  good 
service,  my  brave  young  spark.  Use  your  eyes  more 
tlian  your  tongue,  and  you  will  do  well  We  would 
not  wish  for  stauncher  bulwarks  against  traitor  — 
Papist  or  Spaniard." 

This  was  their  dismissal.  The  audience  was  over, 
and  they  had  to  depart.  Lord  Talbot  declaring  that 
Humfrey  had  had  marvellous  good  hap,  and  he  had 
seldom  seen  her  Majesty  so  gracious  at  a  first  presenta- 
tion, unless  a  man  was  more  comely  than  he  could  call 
his  young  cousins. 

"  Methinks  she  was  glad  to  see  our  swords,"  said 
Diccon.  "  There  was  a  scowling  fellow  she  had  her 
eye  on,  just  as  I  have  seen  Sir  Francis  keep  a  whole 
troop  of  savage  Indians  in  check  as  we  landed  on  an 
island." 

Lord  Tidbot  laughed  rather  provokingly,  and  said, 
"  The  Queen  hath  swords  enough  at  command  without 
being  beholden  to  thine,  my  doughty  cousin  ! " 

Diccon  was  suppressed,  and  mortified,  but  he  thouglit 
the  more.  Humfrey  owned  his  disappointment  at 
more  notice  not  having  been  taken  of  his  commanders' 
exploits,  and  was  answered,  "  Humour  or  policy,  boy, 
policy  or  humour — one  or  both.  One  day,  Drake  and 
Hawkins  and  the  rest  will  be  her  brave  mariners,  her 
golden  boys  ;  another,  mere  pirates  and  robbers,  bring- 
ing the  Dons'  wrath  down  upon  us.  You  must  take 
her  as  you  find  her,  she  is  but  a  woman  after  all ;  and 
even  now  there  is  said  to  be  a  plot — more  deadly- 
than  ever  before — which  the  Council  are  watching 
that  they  may  lay  the  blame  on  the  right  sJioulders. 

Lord    Talbot   did  not,  however,  know  more    than 


XXIV.]  A  LIONESS  AT  HAY.  385 

that  there  were  flying  rumours  of  a  fearful  design,  that 
the  Duke  of  Parma  sliould  laud  from  the  Netherlands, 
the  Queen  be  assassinated,  and  Mary  of  Scotland 
liberated  and  proclaimed,  all  at  once  ;  and  he  marvelled 
at  her  residence  at  Chartley  being  permitted,  since 
it  would  not  be  difficult  to  set  it  on  fire,  and  carry  her 
away  in  the  confusion.  He  added  that  the  whole  of 
the  country,  especially  the  Londoners,  were  declaring 
that  they  should  never  sleep  in  peace  while  she  lived, 
and  there  was  nothing  but  Queen  Elizabeth's  life 
between  her  and  the  crown. 

"  And  that  knave  meant  mischief,  and  the  Queen 
knew  it,  and  bore  him  down  with  her  eye,  just  as 
Drake  did  by  the  cannibal  chief  with  the  poisoned 
arrow,"  thought  Diccon,  but  Lord  Talbot's  previous 
manner  had  silenced  him  effectually. 


336  UiJKNOWN  TO  llISTOliY.  [CU.VP. 


CHAPTEE   XXV. 

Paul's  walk. 

Will  Cavendish,  who  was  in  training  for  a  statesman, 
and  acted  as  a  secretary  to  Sir  Francis  Walsingham, 
advised  that  the  letters  should  be  carried  to  him  at 
once  that  same  evening,  as  he  would  be  in  attendance 
on  the  Queen  the  next  morning,  and  she  would  inquu-e 
for  them. 

The  great  man's  house  was  not  far  off,  and  he  walked 
thither  with  Humfrey,  who  told  him  what  he  had  seen, 
and  asked  wliether  it  ought  not  at  once  to  be  reported 
to  Walsingham. 

Will  whistled.  "  Tliey  are  driving  it  very  close," 
he  said.  "  Humfrey,  old  comrade,  thy  brains  were 
always  more  of  the  order  fit  to  face  a  tough  breeze 
than  to  meddle  with  Court  plots.  Credit  me,  there  is 
cause  for  what  amazed  thee.  The  Queen  and  her 
Council  know  what  they  are  about.  Risk  a  little,  and 
put  an  end  to  all  the  plottings  for  ever !  That's  the 
word." 

"  Eisk  even  the  Queen's  life  ?" 

Will  Cavendish  looked  sapient,  and  replied,  "  We 
of  the  Coundii  Board  know  many  a  thing  that  looks 
passing  strange." 

Mr.  Secretary  Walsingham's  tow^n  house  was,  like 


XXV. J  Paul's  walk.  337 

Lord  Talbot's,  built  round  a  court,  across  which  Caven- 
crish  led  the  way,  with  the  assured  air  of  one  used  to 
the  service,  and  at  home  there.  The  hall  was  thronged 
with  people  waititig,  but  Cavendish  passed  it,  opened 
a  little  wicket,  and  admitted  his  friends  into  a  small 
anteroom,  where  he  bade  them  remain,  while  lie 
aunounced  them  to  Sir  Francis. 

He  disappeared,  shutting  a  door  behind  him,  and 
after  a  moment's  interval  another  person,  with  a  brown 
cloak  round  him,  came  hastily  and  stealthily  across  to 
the  door.  He  had  let  down  the  cloak  which  mutiled  his 
cliin,  not  expecting  the  presence  of  any  one,  and  there 
was  a  moment's  start  as  he  was  conscious  of  the  young 
men  standing  there.  He  passed  through  the  door 
instantly,  but  not  before  Humfrey  had  had  time  to 
recognise  in  him  no  other  than  Cuthbert  Langston, 
almost  the  last  person  he  would  have  looked  for  at  Sir 
Francis  Walsingham's.  Directly  afterwards  Cavendish 
returned. 

"  Sir  Francis  could  not  see  Captain  Talbot,  and 
prayed  him  to  excuse  him,  and  send  in  the  letter." 

"  It  can't  be  helped,"  said  Cavendish,  with  his 
youthful  airs  of  patronage.  "  He  would  gladly 
have  spoken  with  you  when  I  told  him  of  you,  but 
that  Maude  is  just  come  on  business  that  may 
not  tarry.  So  you  must  e'en  entrust  your  packet 
to  me." 

"Maude,"  repeated  Humfrey,  "Was  that  man's 
name  Maude  ?  I  should  have  dared  be  sworn  that  he 
was  my  father's  kinsman,  Cuthbert  Langston." 

"  Very  like,"  said  Will,  "  I  would  dare  be  sworn  to 
nothing  concerning  him,  but  that  he  is  one  of  the 
greatest  and  most  useful  villains  unhung." 

So  saying.  Will  Cavendish  disappeared  with  the 
z 


338  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

letters.  He  probably  had  had  a  caution  administered 
to  him,  for  when  he  returned  he  was  evidently  swell- 
ing with  the  consciousness  of  a  State  secret,  which  he 
would  not  on  any  account  betray,  yet  of  the  existence 
of  which  he  desired  to  make  his  old  comrade  aware. 

Humfrey  asked  whether  he  had  told  Mr.  Secretary 
of  the  man  in  Ilichmond  Park. 

"  Never  fear  !  he  knows  it,"  returned  the  bud:l:rg 
statesman.  "  Why,  look  you,  a  man  like  Sir  Francis 
has  ten  thousand  means  of  intelligence  that  a  simple 
mariner  like  you  would  never  guess  at.  I  thought  it 
strange  myself  when  I  came  first  into  business  of  State, 
but  he  hath  eyes  and  ears  everywhere,  like  the  Queen's 
gown  in  her  picture.  Men  of  the  Privy  Council,  you 
see,  must  despise  none,  for  the  lewdest  and  meanest 
rogues  oft  prove  those  who  can  do  the  best  service, 
just  as  the  bandy-legged  cur  will  turn  the  spit,  or 
unearth  the  fox  wheu  your  gallant  hound  can  do 
nought  but  bay  outside." 

"  Is  this  Maude,  or  Langston,  such  a  cur  ?  " 

Cavendish  gave  his  head  a  shake  that  expressed 
unutterable  things,  saying  :  "  Your  kinsman,  said  you  ? 
I  trust  not  on  the  Talbot  side  of  the  house  ?" 

"  No.  On  his  mother's  side.  I  wondered  the  more 
to  see  him  here  as  he  got  that  halt  in  the  Eising  of 
the  North,  and  on  the  wrong  side,  and  hath  ever  been 
reckoned  a  concealed  Papist." 

"  Ay,  ay.  Dost  not  see,  mine  honest  Humfrey, 
that's  the  very  point  that  fits  him  for  our  purpose  ?" 

"  You  mean  that  he  is  a  double  traitor  and  informer." 

"We  do  not  use  such  hard  words  in  the  Privy 
Council  Board  as  you  do  on  deck,  my  good  friend," 
said  Cavendish.  "  We  have  our  secret  intelligencers, 
you  see,  all  in  the  Queen's  service.     Foul  and  dirty 


XXV.]  Paul's  walk.  339 

work,  but  you  can't  dig  out  a  fox  without;  soiling  o< 
fingers,  and  if  there  be  those  that  take  kindly  to  the 
work,  why,  e'en  let  them  do  it." 

"  Then  there  is  a  plot  ?" 

"  Content  you,  Humfrey  !  You'll  hear  enough  of  it 
anon.  A  most  foul,  bloody,  and  horrible  plot,  quite 
enough  to  hang  every  soul  that  has  meddled  in  it,  and 
yet  safe  to  do  no  harm — like  poor  Hal's  blunderbuss, 
which  would  never  go  off,  except  when  it  burst,  and 
blew  him  to  pieces." 

Will  felt  that  he  had  said  quite  enough  to  impress 
Humfrey  with  a  sense  of  his  statecraft  and  import- 
ance, and  was  not  sorry  for  an  interruption  before  he 
should  have  said  anything  dangerous.  It  was  from 
Frank  Pierrepoint,  who  had  been  Diccon's  schoolmate, 
and  was  enchanted  to  see  him.  Humfrey  was  to  stay 
one  day  longer  in  town  in  case  Walsingham  should 
wish  to  see  him,  and  to  show  Diccon  something  of 
London,  which  they  had  missed  on  their  way  to 
Plymouth. 

St.  Paul's  Cathedral  was  even  then  the  sight  that  all 
Englishmen  were  expected  to  have  seen,  and  the  brothers 
took  their  way  thither,  accompanied  by  Prank  Pierre- 
point,  who  took  their  guidance  on  his  hands.  Had  the 
lads  seen  the  place  at  the  opening  of  the  century  they 
would  have  thought  it  a  piteous  spectacle,  for  desecra- 
tion and  sacrilege  had  rioted  there  unchecked,  the  mag- 
nificent peal  of  bells  had  been  gambled  away  at  a  single 
throw  of  the  dice,  the  library  had  been  utterly  destroyed, 
the  magnificent  plate  melted  up,  and  what  covetous 
fanaticism  had  spared  had  been  further  ravaged  by  a 
terrible  fire.  At  this  time  Bishop  Bancroft  had  done 
his  utmost  towards  reparation,  and  the  old  spire  had 
been  replaced  by  a  wooden  one ;  but  there  vras  much 


340  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOKY,  [CHAP. 

of  ruin  and  decay  visible  all  around,  where  stood  the 
fiiraous  octagon  building  called  Paul's  Cross,  where 
outdoor  sermons  were  preaclied  to  listeners  of  all  ranks. 
This  was  of  wood,  and  was  kept  in  moderately  good 
repair.  Beyond,  the  nave  of  the  Cathedral  stretched 
its  length,  the  greatest  in  England.  Two  sets  of  doors 
immediately  opposite  to  one  another  on  the  north  and 
south  sides  had  rendered  it  a  thoroughfare  in  very  early 
times,  in  spite  of  the  endeavours  of  the  clergy ;  and  at 
this  time  "  Duke  Humfrey's  Walk,"  from  the  tomb  of 
Duke  Humfrey  Stafford,  as  the  twelve  grand  Norman 
bays  of  this  unrivalled  nave  were  called,  was  the  prime 
place  for  the  humours  of  London  ;  and  it  may  be  feared 
that  this,  rather  than  the  architecture,  was  the  chief 
idea  in  the  minds  of  the  youths,  as  a  babel  of  strange 
sounds  fell  on  their  ears,  "  a  still  roar  like  a  humming 
of  bees,"  as  it  was  described  by  a  contemporary,  or,  as 
Humfrey  said,  like  the  sea  in  a  great  hollow  cave.  A 
cluster  of  choir-boys  were  watching  at  the  door  to  fall 
on  any  one  entering  with  spurs  on,  to  levy  their  spur 
money,  and  one  gentleman,  whom  they  had  thus 
attacked,  was  endeavouring  to  save  his  purse  by  call- 
ing on  the  youngest  boy  to  sing  his  gamut. 

Near  at  hand  was  a  pillar,  round  which  stood  a  set 
of  men,  some  rough,  some  knavish-looking,  with  the 
blue  coats,  badges,  short  swords,  and  bucklers  carried 
by  serving-men.  They  were  waiting  to  be  hired,  as  if 
in  a  statute  fair,  and  two  or  three  loud-voiced  bargains 
were  goii-g  on.  In  the  middle  aisle,  gentlemen  in  all 
the  glory  of  plumed  hats,  jewelled  ears,  ruffed  necks, 
Spanish  cloaks,  silken  jerkins,  velvet  hose,  and  be-rosed 
shoes,  were  marching  up  and  down,  some  attitudinising 
to  show  their  graces,  some  discussing  the  news  of  the 
day,  for  "  Paul's  Walk  "  was  the  Bond  Street,  the  Eow, 


XXV.]  Paul's  walk.  341 

the  Tattersall's,  the  Club  of  London.  Twelve  scriveners 
had  their  tables  to  act  as  letter- writers,  and  sometimes 
as  legal  advisers,  and  great  amusement  might  be  had 
by  those  who  chose  to  stand  listening  to  the  blunderiug 
directions  of  their  clients.  In  the  side  aisles,  horse- 
dealing,  merchants'  exchanges,  everything  imaginable  in 
the  way  of  traffic  was  going  on.  Disreputable-looking 
men,  who  there  were  in  sanctuary  from  their  creditors, 
there  lurked  around  Humfrey  Stafford's  tomb  ;  and 
young  Pierrepoint's  warning  to  guard  their  purses 
was  evidently  not  wasted,  for  a  country  fellow,  who 
had  just  lost  his,  was  loudly  demanding  justice,  and 
getting  jeered  at  for  his  simplicity  in  expecting  to 
recover  it. 

"  Seest  thou  this  ? "  said  a  voice  close  to  Humfrey, 
and  he  found  a  hand  on  his  arm,  and  Babiugton,  in 
the  handsome  equipment  of  one  of  the  loungers,  close 
to  him. 

"  A  sorry  sight,  that  would  grieve  my  good  mother," 
returned  Humfrey. 

"  My  Mother,  the  Church,  is  grieved,"  responded 
Antony.  "  This  is  what  you  have  brought  us  to,  for 
your  so-called  religion"  he  added,  ignorant  or  oblivious 
that  these  desecrations  had  been  quite  as  shocking 
before  the  Eeformation.  ''  All  will  soon  be  changed, 
however,"  he  added. 

"  Sir  Thomas  Gresham's  New  Exchange  has  cleared 
off  some  of  the  traffic,  they  say,"  returned  Humfrey. 

"  Pshaw  !  "  said  Antony  ;  "  I  meant  no  such  folly. 
That  were  cleansing  one  stone  while  the  whole  house 
is  foul  with  shame.  No.  There  shall  be  a  swift 
vengeance  on  these  desecrators.  The  purifier  shall 
come  again,  and  the  glory  and  the  beauty  of  the  true 
Faith  shall  be  here  as  of  old,  when  our  fathers  bowed 


342  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOKY.  [CHAP. 

before  the  Holy  Eood,  instead  of  tearing  it  down." 
His  eye  glanced  with  an  enthusiasm  which  Humfrey 
thought  somewhat  wild,  and  he  said,  "Whist!  these 
are  not  things  to  be  thus  spoken  of." 

"All  is  safe,"  said  Babington,  drawing  him  within 
shelter  of  the  chantry  of  Sir  John  Beauchamp's  tomb. 
"  Never  heed  Diccon — Pierrepoint  can  guide  him," 
and  Humfrey  saw  their  figures,  apparently  absorbed  in 
listening  to  the  bidding  for  a  horse.  "  I  have  things 
of  moment  to  say  to  thee,  Humfrey  Talbot.  We  have 
been  old  comrades,  and  had  that  childish  emulation 
which  turns  to  love  in  manhood  in  the  face  of  perils." 

Humfrey,  recollecting  how  they  had  parted,  held 
out  his  hand  in  recognition  of  the  friendliness. 

"  I  would  fain  save  thee,"  said  Babington.  "  Heretic 
and  rival  as  thou  art,  I  cannot  but  love  thee,  and  I 
would  have  thee  die,  if  die  thou  must,  in  honourable 
fight  by  sea  or  land,  rather  than  be  overtaken  by  the 
doom  that  will  fall  on  all  who  4ire  persecuting  our 
true  and  lawful  confessor  and  sovereign." 

"  Gramercy  for  thy  good  will,  Tony,"  said  Humfrey, 
looking  anxiously  to  see  whoLlier  his  old  companion 
was  in  his  right  mind,  yet  remembering  what  had  been 
said  of  plots. 

"  Thou  deem'st  me  raving,"  said  Antony,  smiling 
at  the  perplexed  countenance  before  him,  "  but  thou 
wilt  see  too  late  that  I  speak  sooth,  when  the  armies 
of  the  Church  avenge  the  Name  that  has  been  pro- 
faned among  you !" 

"  The  Spaniards,  I  suppose  you  mean,"  said  Hum- 
frey coolly.  "  You  must  be  far  goue  indeed  to  hope 
to  see  those  fiends  turned  loose  on  this  peaceful  laud, 
but  by  God's  blessing  we  have  kept  them  aloof  before, 
I  trust  we  may  again." 


XXV.]  Paul's  walk.  343 

"  You  talk  of  God's  blessing.  Look  at  His  House," 
said  Babington. 

"  He  is  more  like  to  bless  honest  men  who  fight 
for  their  Queen,  their  homes  and  hearths,  than  traitors 
who  would  bring  in  slaughterers  and  butchers  to  work 
their  will ! " 

"  His  glory  is  worked  through  judgment,  and  thus 
must  it  begin!"  returned  the  young  man.  "But  I 
would  save  thee,  Humfrey,"  he  added.  "  Go  thou 
back  to  Plymouth,  and  be  warned  to  hold  aloof  from 
that  prison  where  the  keepers  will  meet  their  fit 
doom  !  and  the  captive  will  be  set  free.  Thou  dost 
not  believe,"  he  added.  "  See  here,"  and  drawing  into 
the  most  sheltered  part  of  the  chantry,  he  produced 
from  his  bosom  a  picture  in  the  miniature  style  of  the 
period,  containing  six  heads,  among  which  his  own 
was  plaiidy  to  be  recognised,  and  likewise  a  face  which 
Humfrey  felt  as  if  he  should  never  forget,  that  which 
he  had  seen  in  Richmond  Park,  quailing  beneath  the 
Queen's  eye.      Round  the  picture  was  the  motto — 

"  Hi  mihi  sunt  comites  quos  ipsa  pericula  jungunt." 

"  I  tell  thee,  Humfrey,  thou  wilt  hear — if  tliou  dost 
live  to  hear  —  of  these  six  as  having  wrought  the 
greatest  deed  of  our  times  !" 

"  May  it  only  be  a  deed  an  honest  man  need  not  be 
ashamed  of,"  said  Humfrey,  not  at  all  convinced  of  his 
friend's  sanity. 

"Ashamed  of!"  exclaimed  Babington.  "It  is  blest, 
I  tell  thee,  blest  by  holy  men,  blest  l)y  the  noble  and 
suffering  woman  who  will  thus  be  delivered  from  her 
martyrdom." 

"  Babington,  if  thou  talkest  thus,  it  will  be  my  duty 
to  have  tliee  put  in  ward,"  said  Humfrey. 


344  UNKNOWN  TO  HISIOR^.  [CHAP. 

Antony  laughed,  and  there  was  a  triumphant  ring 
very  like  insanity  in  his  laughter.  Humfrey,  with  a 
moment's  idea  that  to  hint  that  the  conspiracy  was 
known  would  hlast  it  at  once,  if  it  were  real,  said,  "  I 
see  not  Cuthbert  Langston  among  your  six.  Know 
yon,  I  saw  him  only  yestereven  going  into  Secretary 
Walsingham's  privy  chamber." 

■  "  Was  he  so  ? "  answered  Babington.  "  Ha  !  ha  ! 
he  holds  them  all  in  play  till  the  great  stroke  be 
struck !  Why !  am  not  I  myself  in  Walsingham's 
confidence  ?  He  thinketh  that  he  is  about  to  send  me 
to  France  to  watch  the  League.     Ha  !  ha  ! " 

Here  Humfrey's  otlier  companions  turned  back  in 
search  of  him ;  Babington  vanished  in  the  crowd,  he 
hardly  knew  how,  and  he  was  left  in  perplexity  and 
extreme  difficulty  as  to  what  was  his  duty  as  friend  or 
as  subject.  If  Babington  were  sane,  there  must  be 
a  conspiracy  for  killing  the  Queen,  bringing  in  the 
Spaniards  and  liberating  Mary,  and  he  had  expressly 
spoken  of  having  had  the  latter  lady's  sanction,  while 
the  sight  of  the  fellow  in  Eichmond  Park  gave  a  colour 
of  probability  to  the  guess.  Yet  the  imprudence  and 
absurdity  of  having  portraits  taken  of  six  assassins 
before  the  blow  was  struck  seemed  to  contradict  all 
the  rest.  On  the  other  hand.  Cavendish  had  spoken  of 
having  all  the  meshes  of  the  web  in  the  hands  of  the 
Council ;  and  Langston  or  Maude  seemed  to  be  trusted 
by  both  parties. 

Humfrey  decided  to  feel  his  way  with  Will  Caven- 
dish, and  that  evening  spoke  of  having  met  Babington 
and  having  serious  doubts  whether  he  were  in  his 
right  mind.  Cavendish  laughed,  "  Poor  wretch !  I  could 
pity  him,"  he  said,  "though  his  plans  be  wicked  enough 
to  merit  no  compassion.     Nay,  never  fear,  Humfrey. 


XXV.]  PAUL'S  WALK.  345 

All  were  overthrown,  did  I  speak  openly.  Nay,  to  utter 
one  word  would  ruin  me  for  ever.  'Tis  quite  suffi- 
cient to  say  that  he  and  his  fellows  are  only  at  large 
till  Mr.  Secretary  sees  fit,  that  so  his  grip  may  be  the 
more  sure." 

Humfrey  saw  he  was  to  be  treated  with  no  confi- 
dence, and  this  made  him  the  more  free  to  act.  There 
were  many  recusant  gentlemen  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
Chartley,  and  an  assault  and  fight  there  were  not  im- 
probable, if,  as  Cavendish  hinted,  there  was  a  purpose 
of  letting  the  traitors  implicate  themselves  in  the 
largest  numbers  and  as  fatally  as  possible.  On  the 
other  hand,  Babingtou's  hot  head  might  only  fancy  he 
had  authority  from  the  Queen  for  his  projects.  If, 
through  Cicely,  he  coidd  convey  the  information  to 
Mary,  it  might  save  her  from  even  appearing  to  be 
cognisant  of  these  wild  schemes,  whatever  they  might 
be,  and  to  hint  that  they  were  known  was  the  surest 
way  to  prevent  their  taking  effect.  Any  way,  Hum- 
frey's  heart  was  at  Chartley,  and  every  warning  he  had 
received  made  him  doubly  anxious  to  be  there  in  per- 
son, to  be  Cicely's  guardian  in  case  of  whatever  danger 
might  threaten  her.  He  blessed  the  fiction  which  still 
represented  him  as  her  brother,  and  which  must  open  a 
way  for  him  to  see  her,  but  he  resolved  not  to  take 
Diccon  thither,  and  parted  with  him  when  the  roads 
diverged  towards  Lichfield,  sending  to  his  father  a 
letter  which  Diccon  was  to  deliver  only  into  his  own 
hand,  witli  full  details  of  all  he  had  seen  and  heard, 
and  his  motives  for  repairing  to  Chartley. 

"Shall  I  see  my  little  Cis  ?"  thought  he.  "And 
even  if  she  play  the  princess  to  me,  how  will  she  meet 
me  ?  She  scorned  me  even  when  she  was  at  home. 
How  will   it   be  now  when   she   h?.s   been   for   well- 


346  UNKNO\VN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

nigh  a  year  in  this  Queen's  training  ?  Ah  !  she  will 
be  taught  to  despise  me  !  Heigh  ho  !  At  least  she 
may  be  in  need  of  a  true  heart  and  strong  arm  to 
guard  her,  and  they  shall  not  fail  her." 

Will  Cavendish,  in  the  plenitude  of  the  official  im- 
portance with  which  he  liked  to  dazzle  his  old  play- 
fellow, had  offered  him  a  pass  to  facilitate  his  entrance, 
and  he  found  reason  to  be  glad  that  he  had  accepted 
it,  for  there  was  a  guard  at  the  gate  of  Chartley  Park, 
and  he  was  detained  there  while  his  letter  was  sent  up 
for  inspection  to  Sir  Amias  Paulett,  who  had  for  the 
last  few  months  acted  as  warder  to  the  Queen. 

However,  a  friendly  message  came  back,  inviting 
him  to  ride  up.  The  house — though  called  a  castle — 
had  been  rebuilt  in  hospitable  domestic  style,  and 
looked  much  less  like  a  prison  than  Slieffield  Lodge, 
but  at  every  enclosure  stood  yeomen  who  challenged  the 
passers-by,  as  though  this  were  a  time  of  alarm.  How- 
ever, at  tlie  hall-door  itself  stood  Sir  Amias^  Paulett, 
a  thin,  narrow-browed,  anxious-looking  man,  with  the 
stiffest  of  ruff's,  over  which  hung  a  scanty  yellow  beard. 

"  Welcome,  sir,"  he  said,  with  a  nervous  anxious 
distressed  manner.  "  Welcome,  most  welcome.  You 
will  pardon  any  discourtesy,  sir,  but  these  are  evil 
times.  The  son,  I  think,  of  good  Master  Eichard 
Talbot  of  Bridgefield  ?  Ay,  I  would  not  for  worlds 
have  shown  any  lack  of  hospitality  to  one  of  his  family. 
It  is  no  want  of  respect,  sir.  No ;  nor  of  my  Lord's 
house ;  but  these  are  ill  days,  and  with  my  charge,  sir 
— if  Heaven  itself  keep  not  the  house — who  knows 
what  may  cliance  or  what  may  be  laid  on  me  ?" 

"  I  understand,"  said  Humfrey,  smiling.  "  I  was 
bred  close  to  Sheffield,  and  hardly  knew  what  'twas  to 
live  beyond  watch  and  ward." 


XXV.]  PAUL'S  WALK.  347 

"Yea!"  said  Paulett,  shaking  his  head.  "You 
come  of  a  loyal  house,  sir ;  but  even  the  good  Eaii 
was  less  exercised  than  I  am  in  the  charge  of  this 
same  lady.  But  I  am  glad,  glad  to  see  you,  sir.  And 
you  would  see  your  sister,  sir  ?  A  modest  young  lady, 
and  not  indevout,  though  I  have  sometimes  seen  her 
sleep  at  sermon.  It  is  well  that  the  poor  maiden 
should  see  some  one  well  affected,  for  she  sitteth  in  the 
very  gate  of  Babylon ;  and  with  respect,  sir,  I  marvel 
that  a  woman,  so  godly  as  Mistress  Talbot  of  Bridge- 
field  is  reported  to  be,  should  suffer  it.  However,  I  do 
my  poor  best,  under  Heaven,  to  hinder  the  faithful  of 
the  household  from  being  tainted.  I  have  removed 
Preaux,  who  is  well  known  to  be  a  Popish  priest  in 
disguise,  and  thus  he  can  spread  no  more  of  his  errors. 
Moreover,  my  chaplain,  Master  Blunden,  with  other 
godly  men,  preaches  three  times  a  week  against  Eomish 
errors,  and  all  are  enforced  to  attend.  May  their  ears 
be  opened  to  the  truth !  I  am  about  to  attend  this 
lady  on  a  ride  in  the  Park,  sir.  It  might — if  she  be 
willing — be  arranged  that  your  sister.  Mistress  Talbot, 
should  spend  the  time  in  your  company,  and  methinks 
the  lady  will  thereto  agree,  for  she  is  ever  ready  to 
show  a  certain  carnal  and  Avorldly  complaisance  to  the 
wishes  of  her  attendants,  and  I  have  observed  that  she 
greatly  affects  the  damsel,  more,  I  fear,  than  may  be  for 
the  eternal  welfare  of  the  maiden's  souL'* 


S48  UNKNOWN  TO  HISIOEY.  lCMAJP. 


CHAPTEE  XXVI. 

IN    THE    WEB. 

It  was  a  beautiful  briglit  summer  day,  and  (Jueen 
JMary  and  some  of  lier  train  were  preparing  for  tlieii 
ride.  The  Queen  was  in  liigh  spirits,  and  that  wonder- 
ful and  c]ian<:feful  countenance  of  hers  was  beamincj 
with  anticipation  and  hope,  while  her  demeanour  was 
altogether  delightful  to  every  one  who  approached  her. 
She  was  adding  some  last  instructions  to  Nau,  who  was 
writing  a  letter  for  her  to  the  French  ambassador,  and 
Cicely  stood  by  her,  holding  her  little  dog  in  a  leash, 
and  looking  somewhat  anxious  and  wistful.  There  was 
more  going  on  round  the  girl  than  she  was  allowed  to 
understand,  and  it  made  her  anxious  and  uneasy.  She 
knew  that  the  correspondence  through  the  brewer  was 
actively  carried  on,  but  she  was  not  informed  of  what 
passed.  Only  she  was  aware  that  some  crisis  must  be 
expected,  for  her  mother  was  ceaselessly  restless  and 
full  of  expectation.  She  had  put  all  her  jewels  and 
valuables  into  as  small  a  compass  as  possible,  and 
talked  more  than  ever  of  her  plans  for  giving  hei 
daughter  either  to  the  Archduke  Matthias,  or  to  some 
great  noble,  as  if  the  English  crown  were  already  within 
her  grasp.  Anxious,  curious,  and  feeling  injured  by 
the  want  of  confidence,  yet   not  daring  to  complain 


XXVI.]  IN  THE  WEB.  349 

Cicely  felt  almost  fretful  at  her  mother's  buoyancy, 
but  she  had  been  taught  a  good  many  lessons  in  the 
past  year,  and  one  of  them  was  that  she  might  indeed 
be  caressed,  but  that  she  must  show  neither  humour 
nor  will  of  her  own,  and  the  least  presumption  in  in- 
quiry or  criticism  was  promptly  quashed. 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door,  and  the  usher 
announced  that  Sir  Amias  Paulett  prayed  to  speak 
with  her  Grace.  Her  eye  glanced  round  with  the 
rapid  emotion  of  one  doubtful  whether  it  were  for  weal 
or  woe,  yet  with  undaunted  spirit  to  meet  either,  and 
as  she -granted  her  permission,  Cis  heard  her  whisper  to 
Nau,  "  A  rider  came  up  even  now  !  'Tis  the  tidings  ! 
Are  the  Catholics  of  Derby  in  the  saddle  ?  Are  the 
ships  on  the  coast  ? " 

In  came  the  tall  old  man  with  a  stiff  reverence : 
"  Madam,  your  Grace's  horses  attend  you,  and  I  have 
tidings  " — (Mary  started  forward) — "  tidings  for  this 
young  lady.  Mistress  Cicely  Talbot.  Her  brother  is 
arrived  from  the  Spanish  Main,  and  requests  permission 
to  see  and  speak  with  her." 

Eadiance  flashed  out  on  Cicely's  countenance  as 
excitement  faded  on  that  of  her  mother  :  "  Humfrey  ! 
0  madam,  let  me  go  to  him ! "  she  entreated,  with  a 
spring  of  joy  and  clasped  hands. 

Mary  was  far  too  kind-hearted  to  refuse,  besides 
to  have  done  so  would  have-  excited  suspicion  at  a 
perilous  moment,  and  the  arrangement  Sir  Amias  pro- 
posed was  quickly  made.  Mary  Scaton  was  to  attend 
the  Queen  in  Cicely's  stead,  and  she  was  allowed  to 
hurry  downstairs,  and  oidy  one  warning  was  possible  : 
"  Go  then,  poor  child,  take  thine  holiday,  only  bear  in 
mind  what  and  who  thou  art." 

Yet  the  words  had  scarce  died  on  her  ears  before 


350  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

she  was  oblivions  of  all  save  that  it  was  a  familiar 
home  figure  wlio  stood  at  the  bottom  of  the  stairs,  one 
of  the  fac3s  she  trusted  most  in  all  the  world  which 
beamed  out  upon  her,  the  hands  which  she  know 
would  guard  her  through  everything  were  stretched 
out  to  her,  the  lips  with  veritable  love  in  them  kissed 
the  cheeks  she  did  not  withhold.  Sir  Amias  stood  by 
and  gave  the  kindest  smile  she  had  seen  from  him. 
quite  changing  his  pinched  features,  and  he  proposea 
to  the  two  young  people  to  go  and  walk  in  the  garden 
together,  letting  them  out  into  the  square  walled 
garden,  very  formal,  but  very  bright  and  gay,  and 
with  a  pleached  alley  to  shelter  them  from  the  sun. 

"Good  old  gentleman!"  exclaimed  Humfrey,  hold- 
ing the  maiden's  hand  in  his.  "  It  is  a  shame  to  win 
such  pleasure  by  feigning." 

"  As  for  that,"  sighed  Cis,  "  I  never  know  what 
is  sooth  here,  and  what  am  I  save  a  living  lie  myself? 
0  Humfrey !  I  am  so  weary  of  it  all." 

"  Ah  !  would  that  I  could  bear  thee  home  with 
me,"  he  said,  little  prepared  f>jr  this  reception. 

"  Would  that  thou  couldst !  ,  0  that  I  were  indeed 
thy  sister,  or  that  the  writing  in  my  swaddling  bands 
had  been  washed  out ! — Nay,"  catching  back  her  words, 
"  I  meant  not  that !  I  would  not  but  belong  to  the 
dear  Lady  here.  She  says  I  comfort  her  more  than 
any  of  them,  aud  oh  !  she  is — she  is,  there  is  no  tell- 
ing how  sweet  and  how  noble.  It  was  only  that  the 
sight  of  thee  awoke  the  yearning  to  be  at  home  with 
mother  and  with  father.     Forget  my  folly,  Humfrey." 

"  I  cannot  soon  forget  that  Bridgefield  seems  to 
thee  thy  true  home,"  he  said,  putting  etrong  restiaint  on 
himself  to  say  and  do  no  more,  while  his  heart  throbbed 
with  a  violence  unawakened  by  storm  or  Spaniard. 


XXVJ,1  IN  THE  WEB.  351 

"Tell  me  of  tliem  all,"  she  said.  "I  lia\'o  heard 
naught  of  them  since  we  left  Tutbiiry,  where  at  least 
we  were  in  my  Lord's  house,  and  the  dear  old  silver 
dog  was  on  every  sleeve.  Ah !  there  he  is,  the  trusty 
rogue." 

And  snatching  up  Humfrey's  hat,  which  was 
fastened  with  a  brooch  of  his  crest  in  the  fashion  of 
the  day,  she  kissed  the  familiar  token.  Then,  how- 
ever, she  blushed  and  drew  herself  up,  remembering 
the  caution  not  to  forget  who  she  was,  and  with  an 
assumption  of  more  formal  dignity,  she  said,  "  And  how 
fares  it  with  the  good  Mrs.  Talbot  ?" 

"  Well,  when  I  last  heard,"  said  Humfrey,  "  but  I 
have  not  been  at  home.  I  only  know  wliat  Will 
Cavendish  and  my  Lord  Talbot  told  me.  I  sent 
Diccon  on  to  Bridgefield,  and  came  out  of  the  way  to 
see  you,  lady,"  he  concluded,  with  tlie  same  regard  to 
actual  circumstances  that  she  had  shown. 

"  Oh,  that  was  good  !"  she  whispered,  and  they  both 
seemed  to  feel  a  certain  safety  in  avoiding  personal 
subjects.  Humfrey  had  the  history  of  his  voyage  to 
narrate — to  tell  of  little  Diccon's  gallant  doings,  and 
to  exalt  Sir  Francis  Drake's  skill  and  bravery,  and  at 
last  to  let  it  ooze  out,  under  Cis's  eager  questioning, 
that  when  his  captain  had  died  of  fever  on  the  His- 
paniola  coast,  and  they  had  been  overtaken  by  a 
tornado,  Sir  Francis  had  declared  that  it  was  Hum- 
frey's skill  and  steadfastness  which  had  saved  the  ship 
and  crew. 

"  And  it  was  that  tornado,"  he  said,  "  which 
stemmed  the  fever,  and  saved  little  Diccon's  life. 
Oh  !  when  he  lay  moaning  below,  then  was  the  time 
to  long  for  my  mother." 

Time  sped  on  till  the  great  hall  clock  made  Cicely 


352  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOEY.  [cHAP. 

look  up  and  say  she  feared  that  the  ridtis  would  soon 
return,  and  then  Humfrey  knew  that  he  must  make 
sure  to  speak  the  words  of  warning  he  came  to  utter. 
He  told,  in  haste,  of  his  message  to  Queen  Elizabeth, 
and  of  bis  being  sent  on  to  Secretary  Walsingham, 
adding,  "  But  I  saw  not  the  great  man,  for  he  was 
closeted — with  whom  think  you  ?  No  other  than 
Cuthbert  Langston,  whom  Cavendish  called  by  another 
^«,me.  It  amazed  me  the  more,  because  I  had  two 
days  before  met  him  in  Westminster  with  Antony 
Babington,  who  presented  him  to  me  by  his  own  name." 

"  Saw  you  Antony  Babington  ?"  asked  Cis,  raising 
her  eyes  to  his  face,  but  looking  uneasy. 

"  Twice,  at  Westminster,  and  again  in  Paul's  Walk. 
Had  you  seen  him  since  you  have  been  here  ?" 

"  Not  here,  but  at  Tutbury.  He  came  once,  and  I 
was  invited  to  dine  in  the  hall,  because  he  brought 
recommendations  from  the  Countess."  There  was  a 
pause,  and  then,  as  if  she  had  begun  to  take  in  the 
import  of  Humfrey's  words,  she  added,  "  What  said 
you  ?  That  Mr.  Langston  was  going  between  him  and 
Mr.  Secretary  ?" 

"Not  exactly  that,"  and  Humfrey  repeated  with 
more  detail  what  he  had  seen  of  Langston,  forbearinf; 
to  ask  any  questions  which  Cicely  might  not  be  able 
to  answer  with  honour ;  but  they  had  been  too  much 
together  in  childhood  not  to  catch  one  another's  mean- 
ing with  half  a  hint,  and  she  said,  "  I  see  why  you 
came  here,  Humfrey.  It  was  good  and  true  and  kind, 
befitting  you.  I  will  tell  the  Queen,  If  Langston  be 
in  it,  there  is  sure  to  be  treachery.  But,  indeed,  I 
know  nothing  or  well-nigh  nothing." 

"I  am  glad  of  it,"  fervently  exclaimed  Humfrey. 

"  No ;  I  only  know  that  she  has  high  hopes,  and 


XXVI.]  IN  THE  WEB.  353 

thinks  that  the  term  of  her  captivity  is  well-nigh  over. 
But  it  is  Madame  de  Conrcelles  whom  she  trusts,  not 
me,"  said  Cicely,  a  little  hurt. 

"  So  is  it  much  better  for  thee  to  know  as  little  as 
possible,"  said  Humfrey,  growing  intimate  in  tone 
again  in  spite  of  himself.  "  She  hath  not  changed 
thee  much,  Cis,  only  thou  art  more  grave  and  womanly, 
ay,  and  thou  art  taller,  yea,  and  thinner,  and  paler,  as  I 
fear  me  thou  mayest  well  be." 

"  Ah,  Humfrey,  'tis  a  poor  joy  to  be  a  princess  in 
prison  !  And  yet  I  shame  me  that  I  long  to  be  away. 
Oh  no,  I  would  not.  Mistress  Seaton  and  Mrs.  Curll 
and  the  rest  might  be  free,  yet  they  have  borne  this 
durance  patiently  all  these  years — and  I  think — I 
think  she  loves  me  a  little,  and  oh  !  she  is  hardly  used. 
Humfrey,  what  think'st  thou  that  Mr.  Langston  meant  ? 
I  wot  now  for  certain  that  it  was  he  who  twice  came 
to  beset  us,  as  Tibbott  the  huckster,  and  with  the  beads 
and  bracelets  !  They  all  deem  him  a  true  friend  to 
my  Queen." 

"  So  doth  Babington,"  said  Humfrey,  curtly. 

"  Ah  ! "  she  said,  with  a  little  terrified  sound  of 
conviction,  then  added,  "  What  thought  you  of  Master 
Babington  ?" 

"  That  he  is  half-crazed,"  said  Humfrey. 

"  We  may  say  no  more,"  said  Cis,  seeing  a  servant 
advancing  from  the  house  to  tell  her  that  the  riders 
were  returning.      "  Shall  I  see  you  again,  Humfrey  ?" 

"  If  Sir  Amias  should  invite  me  to  lie  here  to-night, 
and  remain  to-morrow,  since  it  will  be  Sunday." 

"At  least  I  sliall  see  you  in  the  morning,  ere  you  de- 
part," she  said,  as  with  unwilling  yet  prompt  steps  she 
returned  to  the  house,  Humfrey  feeling  that  she  was 
indeed  his  little  Cis,  yet  that  some  change  had  come  over 

2  A 


354  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

Ler,  not  so  much  altering  her,  as  developing  the  capa- 
bilities he  had  always  seen. 

For  herself,  poor  child,  her  feelings  were  in  a  strange 
turmoil,  more  than  usually  conscious  of  that  dual  exist- 
ence which  had  tormented  her  ever  since  she  had  been 
made  aware  of  her  true  birth.  Moreover,  she  had  a 
sense  of  impending  danger  and  evil,  and,  by  force  of  con- 
trast, the  frank,  open-hearted  manner  of  Humfrey  made 
her  the  more  sensible  of  being  kept  in  the  dark  as  to 
serious  matters,  while  outwardly  made  a  pet  and  play- 
thing by  her  mother,  "just  like  Bijou,"  as  she  said  to 
herself. 

"  So,  little  one,"  said  Queen  Mary,  as  she  returned, 
"  thou  hast  been  revelling  once  more  in  tidings  of 
Sheffield  !  How  long  will  it  take  me  to  polish  away 
the  dulness  of  thy  clownish  contact  ? " 

"  Humfrey  does  not  come  from  home,  madam,  but 
from  London.  Madam,  let  me  tell  you  in  your 
ear " 

Mary's  eye  instantly  took  the  terrified  alert  ex- 
pression which  had  come  from  many  a  shock  and 
alarm.  "  What  is  it,  child  ?  "  she  asked,  however,  in 
a  voice  of  affected  merriment.  "  I  wager  it  is  that  he 
has  found  his  true  Cis.  i^ay,  wliisper  it  to  me,  if  it 
touch  thy  silly  little  heart  so  deeply." 

Cicely  knelt  down,  the  Queen  bending  over  her,  while 
she  murmured  in  her  ear,  "  He  saw  Cuthbert  Langston, 
by  a  feigned  name,  admitted  to  Mr.  Secretary  Walsing- 
ham's  priv^y  chamber." 

She  fdt  the  viulent  start  this  information  caused, 
but  the  command  of  voice  and  counteaance  was  perfect. 
"  What  of  that,  mignonne  ?  "  she  said.  "  What  knoweth 
he  of  this  Langston,  as  thou  callest  him  ?" 

"He  is  my — no — his  father's   kinsman,  madam, 


XXVI.]  IN  THE  WEB.  355 

and  is  known  to  be  but  a  plotter.  Oh,  surely,  he  is 
not  in  your  secrets,  madam,  my  mother,  after  that 
day  at  Tutbury  ? " 

"  Alack,  my  lassie,  Gifford  or  Babington  answered 
for  him,"  said  the  Queen,  "  and  he  kens  more  than  I 
could  desire.  But  this  Humfrey  of  thine  !  How  came 
he  to  blunder  out  such  tidings  to  tliee  ?" 

"  It  was  no  blunder,  madam.'  He  came  here  of 
purpose." 

"  Sure,"  exclaimed  Mary,  "  it  were  too  good  to  hope 
that  he  hath  become  well  affected.  He — a  sailor  of 
Drake's,  a  son  of  Master  Eichard  !  Hath  Babington 
won  him  over ;  or  is  it  for  thy  sake,  child  ?  For  I 
bestowed  no  pains  to  cast  smiles  to  him  at  Sheffield, 
even  had  he  come  in  my  way." 

"  I  think,  madam,"  said  Cicely,  "  that  he  is  too  loyal- 
hearted  to  bear  the  sight  of  treachery  without  a  word 
of  warning." 

"  Is  he  so  ?  Then  he  is  the  first  of  his  nation  who 
hath  been  of  such  a  mind !  Nay,  mignonnc,  deny  not 
thy  conquest.      This  is  thy  work." 

"  I  deny  not  that — that  I  am  beloved  by  Humfrey," 
said  Cicely,  "  for  I  have  known  it  all  my  life  ;  but  that 
goes  for  naught  in  what  he  deems  it  right  to  do." 

"  There  spoke  so  truly  Mistress  Susan's  scholar  that 
thou  makest  me  laugh  in  spite  of  myself  and  all  the 
rest.  Hold  him  fast,  my  maiden ;  think  what  thou 
wilt  of  his  service,  and  leave  me  now,  and  send  Melville 
and  Curll  to  me." 

Cicely  went  away  full  of  that  undefined  discomfort 
experienced  by  generous  young  spirits  when  their  elders, 
more  worldly-wise  (or  foolish),  fail  even  to  comprehend 
the  purity  or  loftiness  of  motive  in  which  they  them- 
selves thoroughly  believe.     Yet,  though  she  had  in- 


356  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

finitely  more  faith  in  Humfrey's  aftection  than  she  had 
in  tliat  of  Babington,  she  had  not  by  any  means  the 
same  dread  of  being  used  to  bait  the  hook  for  him, 
partly  because  she  knew  his  integrity  too  well  to  expect 
to  shake  it,  and  partly  because  he  was  perfectly  aware 
of  her  real  birth,  and  could  not  be  gulled  with  such 
delusive  hopes  as  poor  Antony  might  once  have  been. 

Humfrey  meantime  was  made  very  welcome  by  Sir 
Amias  Paulett,  who  insisted  on  his  spending  the  next 
day,  Sunday,  at  Chartley,  and  made  him  understand 
that  he  was  absolutely  welcome,  as  having  a  strong 
arm,  stout  heart,  and  clear  brain  used  to  command. 
"  Trusty  aid  do  I  need,"  said  poor  Sir  Amias,  "  if  ever 
man  lacked  an  arm  of  flesh.  The  Council  is  putting 
more  on  me  than  ever  man  had  to  bear,  in  an  open 
place  like  this,  hard  to  be  defended,  and  they  will 
not  increase  the  guard  lest  they  should  give  the  alarm, 
forsooth ! " 

"What  is  it  that  you  apprehend?"  inquired 
Humfrey. 

"  There's  enough  to  apprehend  when  all  the  hot- 
headed Papists  of  Stafford  and  Derbyshire  are  waiting 
the  signal  to  fire  the  outhouses  and  carry  off  this  lady 
under  cover  of  the  confusion.  Mr.  Secretary  swears 
they  will  not  stir  till  the  signal  be  given,  and  that  it 
never  will ;  but  such  sort  of  fellows  are  like  enough  to 
mistake  the  sign,  and  the  stress  may  come  through 
their  dillydallying  to  make  all  sure  as  they  say,  and 
then,  if  there  be  any  mischance,  I  shall  be  the  one  to 
bear  the  blame.  Ay,  if  it  be  their  own  work  !"  he 
added,  speaking  to  himself,  "  Murder  under  trust ! 
That  would  serve  as  an  answer  to  foreign  princes,  and 
my  head  would  have  to  pay  for  it,  however  welcome  it 
might  be !     So,  good  Mr.  Talbot,  supposing  any  alarm 


XXVI.]  IN  THE  WEB.  357 

should  arise,  keep  you  close  to  the  person  of  this  lady, 
for  there  be  those  who  would  make  the  fray  a  colour 
for  taking  her  life,  under  pretext  of  hindering  her.  from 
being  carried  off." 

It  was  no  wonder  that  a  warder  in  such  circum- 
■itances  looked  harassed  and  perplexed,  and  showed 
himself  glad  of  being  joined  by  any  ally  whom  he  could 
trust.  In  truth,  harsh  and  narrow  as  he  was,  Paulett 
was  too  good  and  religious  a  man  for  the  task  that  had 
been  thrust  on  him,  where  loyal  obedience,  sense  of 
expediency,  and  even  religious  fanaticism,  were  all  in 
opposition  to  the  primary  principles  of  truth,  mercy, 
and  honour.  He  was,  besides,  in  constant  anxiety, 
living  as  he  did  between  plot  and  counterplot,  and  with 
the  certainty  that  emissaries  of  the  Council  surrounded 
him  who  would  have  no  scruple  in  taking  Mary's  life, 
and  leaving  him  to  bear  the  blame,  when  Elizabeth 
would  have  to  explain  the  deed  to  the  other  sovereigns 
of  Europe.  He  disclosed  almost  all  this  to  Humfrey, 
whose  frank,  trustworthy  expression  seemed  to  move 
him  to  unusual  confidence. 

At  supper -time  another  person  appeared,  whom 
Humfrey  thought  he  had  once  seen  at  Sheffield — a  thin, 
yellow -haired  and  bearded  man,  much  marked  with 
smaUpox,  in  the  black  dress  of  a  lawyer,  who  sat  above 
the  houseliold  servants,  though  below  the  salt.  Paulett 
once  drank  to  him  with  a  certain  air  of  patronage, 
calling  him  Master  Phillipps,  a  name  that  came  as  a 
revelation  to  Humfrey.  Phillipps  was  the  decipherer 
who  had,  he  knew,  been  employed  to  interpret  Queen 
Mary's  letters  after  tlie  Norfolk  plot.  Were  there, 
then,  fresh  letters  of  that  unfortunate  lady  in  his  hands, 
or  were  any  to  be  searched  for  and  captured  ? 


358  UNKNOWN  TO  llIfcJTOJiY.  [CHAP. 


CHAPTER    XXVII. 

THE  CASTLE  WELL. 

"  What  vantage  or  wliat  thing 
Gett'st  thou  thus  for  to  sting, 

Thou  false  and  flatt'ring  liar  ? 
Thj'  tongue  doth  hurt,  it's  seen 
No  less  than  arrows  keen 

Or  liot  consuming  fire." 

So  sang  the  congregation  in  the  chapel  at  Chaitley,  in 
the  strains  of  Sternhold  and  Hopkins,  wliile  Humfrey 
Talbot  could  not  forbear  from  a  misgiving  whether 
these  falsehoods  were  entirely  on  the  side  to  which 
they  were  thus  liberally  attributed.  Opposite  to  liim 
stood  Cicely,  in  her  dainty  Sunday  farthingale  of  white, 
embroidered  with  violet  buds,  and  a  green  and  violet 
boddice  to  match,  holding  herself  with  that  unconscious 
royal  bearing  which  had  always  distinguished  her,  but 
with  an  expression  of  care  and  anxiety  drawing  her 
dark  brows  nearer  together  as  she  bent  over  her  book. 

She  knew  that  her  mother  had  left  her  bed  with  the 
earliest  peep  of  summer  dawn,  and  had  met  tlie  two 
secretaries  in  her  cabinet.  There  they  were  busy  for 
hours,  and  she  had  only  returned  to  her  bed  just  as  the 
household  began  to  bestir  itself. 

"  My  child,"  she  said  to  Cicely,  "  I  am  about  to  put 


XXVII.]  THE  CASTLE  WELL.  359 

my  life  into  thy  keeping  and  that  of  this  Talbot  lad. 
If  what  he  saith  of  this  Langston  be  sooth,  I  am  again 
betrayed,  fool  tliat  I  was  to  expect  aught  else.  My 
life  is  spent  in  being  betrayed.  The  fellow  hath  been 
a  go-between  in  all  that  hath  passed  between  Babington 
and  me.  If  he  hath  uttered  it  to  Walsingham,  all  is 
over  with  our  hopes,  and  the  window  in  whose  sun- 
light I  have  been  basking  is  closed  for  ever !  But  some- 
thing may  yet  be  saved.  Something  ?  What  do  I 
say  ? — The  letters  I  hold  here  would  give  colour  for 
taking  my  life,  ay,  and  Babington's  and  Curll's,  and 
many  more.  I  trusted  to  have  burnt  them,  but  in  this 
summer  time  there  is  no  coming  by  fire  or  candle 
without  suspicion,  and  if  I  tore  tliem  they  might  be 
pieced  together,  nay,  and  with  addition.  They  must 
be  carried  forth  and  made  away  with  beyond  the  ken 
of  Paulett  and  his  spies.  Now,  this  lad  hath  some 
bowels  of  compassion  and  generous  indignation.  Thou 
wilt  see  him  again,  alone  and  unsuspected,  ere  he  departs. 
Thou  must  deal  with  him  to  bear  this  packet  away, 
and  when  he  is  far  out  of  reach  to  drop  it  into  the 
most  glowing  fire,  or  the  deepest  pool  he  can  find. 
Tell  him  it  may  concern  thy  life  and  liberty,  and  he 
will  do  it,  but  be  not  simple  enough  to  say  ought  of 
Babington." 

"  He  would  be  as  like  to  do  it  for  Babington  as  for 
any  other,"  said  Cis. 

The  Queen  smiled  and  said,  "  Nineteen  years  old, 
and  know  thus  little  of  men." 

"  I  know  Humfrey  at  least,"  said  Cis. 

"  Then  deal  with  him  after  thy  best  knowledge, 
to  make  him  convey  away  this  perilous  matter  ere 
a  search  come  upon  us.  Do  it  we  must,  maiden, 
not  for  thy  poor  mother's  sake  alone,  but  for  tliat  of 


360  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [OHAP. 

many  a  faithful  spirit  outside,  aud  above  all  of  poor 
Curll.  Tliiuk  of  our  Barbara !  Would  that  I  could 
have  sent  her  out  of  reach  of  our  alarms  and  shocks, 
but  Paulett  is  bent  on  penning  us  together  like  silly 
birds  in  the  net.  Still  proofs  will  be  wanting  if  thou 
canst  get  this  youth  to  destroy  this  packet  unseen. 
Tell  him  that  I  know  his  parents'  son  too  well  to  offer 
him  any  meed  save  the  prayers  and  blessings  of  a  poor 
captive,  or  to  fear  that  he  would  yield  it  for  the  largest 
reward  Elizabeth's  coffers  could  yield." 

"  It  shall  be  done,  madam,"  said  Cicely. 

But  there  was  a  strong  purpose  in  her  mind  that 
Humfrey  should  not  be  implicated  in  the  matter. 

When  after  dinner  Sir  Amias  Paulett  made  his 
daily  visit  of  inspection  to  the  Queen,  she  begged  that 
the  young  Talbots  might  be  permitted  another  walk  in 
the  garden ;  and  when  he  replied  that  he  did  not 
approve  of  worldly  pastime  on  the  Sabbath,  she 
pleaded  the  celebrated  example  of  John  Knox  finding 
Calvin  playing  at  bowls  on  a  Sunday  afternoon  at 
Geneva,  and  thus  absolutely  prevailed  on  him  to  let 
them  take  a  short  walk  together  in  brotherly  lo^'e, 
while  the  rest  of  the  household  was  collected  in  the 
hall  to  be  catechised  by  the  chaplain. 

So  out  they  went  together,  but  to  Humfrey's  sur- 
prise, Cicely  walked  on  hardly  speaking  to  him,  so  that 
he  fancied  at  first  that  she  must  have  had  a  lecture  on 
her  demeanour  to  him.  She  took  him  along  the  broad 
terrace  beside  the  bowling-green,  through  some  yew- 
tree  walks  to  a  stone  wall,  and  a  gate  which  proved 
to  be  locked.  She  looked  much  disappointel,  but 
scanning  the  wall  with  her  eye,  said,  "  We  have  scaled 
walls  together  before  now,  and  higher  than  this.  Hum- 
frey, I  cannot  tell  you  why,  but  I  must  go  over  here." 


XXVII.]  THE  CASTLE  WELL.  361 

The  wall  was  overgrown  with  stout  branches  of 
ivy,  and  though  the  Sunday  farthingale  was  not  very 
appropriate  for  climbing,  Cicely's  active  feet  and 
Humfrey's  strong  arm  carried  her  safely  to  where  she 
could  jump  down  on  the  other  side,  into  a  sort  of 
wilderness  where  thorn  and  apple  trees  grew  among 
green  mounds,  heaps  of  stones  and  broken  walls,  the 
ruins  of  some  old  outbuilding  of  the  former  castle. 
There  was  only  a  certain  trembling  eagerness  about 
her,  none  of  the  mirthful  exultation  that  the  recurrence 
of  such  an  escapade  with  her  old  companion  would 
naturally  have  excited,  and  all  she  said  was,  "  Stand 
here,  Humfrey;  an  you  love  me,  follow  me  not.  I  will 
return  anon." 

With  stealthy  step  she  disappeared  behind  a  mound 
covered  by  a  thicket  of  brambles,  but  Humfrey  was 
much  too  anxious  for  her  safety  not  to  move  quietly 
onwards.  He  saw  her  kneeling  by  one  of  those  black 
yawning  holes,  often  to  be  found  in  ruins,  intent  upon 
fastening  a  small  packet  to  a  stone ;  he  understood  all 
in  a  moment,  and  drew  back  far  enough  to  secure  that 
no  one  molested  her.  There  was  something  in  this 
reticence  of  hers  that  touched  him  greatly ;  it  showed 
so  entirely  that  she  had  learnt  the  lesson  of  loyalty 
wliich  his  father's  influence  had  impressed,  and  likewise 
one  of  self-dependence.  What  was  right  for  her  to  do 
for  her  mother  and  Queen  might  not  be  right  for  him,  as 
an  Englishman,  to  aid  and  abet ;  and  small  as  the  deed 
seemed  in  itself,  her  thus  silently  taking  it  on  herself 
ratlier  than  perplex  him  with  it,  added  a  certain  esteem 
aiivl  respect  to  the  affection  he  had  always  had  for  her. 

She  came  back  to  him  with  bounding  steps,  as  if 
with  a  lightened  heart,  and  as  he  asked  her  what  this 
strange  place  was,  she  explained  that  here  were  said  ta 


362  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

be  the  ruins  of  the  former  castle,  and  that  beyond  lay 
the  ground  where  sometimes  the  party  sliot  at  the  butts. 
A  little  dog  of  Mary  Seaton's  had  been  lost  the  last 
time  of  their  archery,  and  it  was  feared  that  he  had 
fallen  down  the  old  well  to  which  Cis  now  conducted 
Humfrey.  There  was  a  sound — long,  hollow,  rever- 
berating, when  Humfrey  threw  a  stone  down,  and  when 
Cicely  asked  him,  in  an  awestruck  voice,  whether  he 
thought  anything  thrown  there  would  ever  be  heard  of 
more,  he  could  well  say  that  he  believed  not. 

She  breathed  freely,  but  they  were  out  of  bounds, 
and  had  to  scramble  back,  which  they  did  undetected,, 
and  with  much  more  mirth  than  the  first  time.  Cicely 
was  young  enough  to  be  glad  to  throw  off  her  anxieties 
and  forget  them.  She  did  not  want  to  talk  over  the 
plots  she  only  guessed  at;  -which  were  not  to  her  exciting 
mysteries,  but  gloomy  terrors  into  which  she  feared 
to  look.  Nor  was  she  free  to  say  much  to  Humfrey  of 
what  she  knew.  Indeed  the  rebound,  and  the  satis- 
faction of  having  fulfilled  her  commission,  had  raised 
Cicely's  spirits,  so  that  she  was  altogether  the  bright 
childish  companion  Humfrey  had  known  her  before  he 
went  to  sea,  or  royalty  had  revealed  itself  to  her ;  and 
Sir  Amias  Paulett  would  hardly  have  thought  them 
solemn  and  serious  enough  for  an  edifying  Sunday  talk 
could  he  have  heard  them  laughing  over  Humfrey's 
adventures  on  board  ship,  or  her  troubles  in  learning  to 
dance  in  a  high  and  disposed  manner.  She  came  in  so 
glowing  and  happy  that  the  Queen  smiled  and  sighed, 
and  called  her  her  little  milkmaid,  commending  her 
highly,  however,  for  having  disposed  of  the  dangerous 
parcel  unknown  (as  she  believed)  to  her  companion. 
"  The  fewer  who  have  to  keep  counsel,  the  sickeier  it 
is,"  she  said. 


XXVII.]  THE  CASTLE  WELL.  363 

Humfrey  meantime  joined  the  rest  of  the  house- 
hold, and  comported  himself  at  the  evening  sermon 
with  such  exemplary  discretion  as  entirely  to  win  the 
heart  of  Sir  Amias  Paulett,  who  thought  him  listening 
tc»  Mr.  Blunden's  oft-divided  headings,  while  he  was  in 
fact  revolving  on  what  pretext  he  could  remain  to  pro- 
tect Cicely.  The  Knight  gave  him  that  pretext,  when 
he  spoke  of  departing  early  on  Monday  morning, 
offering  him,  or  rather  praying  him  to  accept,  the  com- 
mand of  the  guards,  whose  former  captain  had  been 
dismissed  as  untrustworthy.  Sir  Amias  undertook 
that  a  special  messenger  should  be  sent  to  take  a  letter 
to  Bridgefield,  explaining  Humfrey's  delay,  and  asking 
permission  from  his  parents  to  undertake  the  charge, 
since  it  was  at  this  very  crisis  tliat  he  was  especially 
in  need  of  God-fearing  men  of  full  integrity.  Then 
moved  to  confidence,  the  old  gentleman  disclosed  that 
not  only  was  he  in  fear  of  an  attack  on  the  house 
from  the  Eoman  Catholic  gentry  in  the  neighbourhood, 
which  was  to  take  place  as  soon  as  Parma's  ships  were 
seen  on  the  coast,  but  that  he  dreaded  his  own  servants 
being  tampered  with  by  some  whom  he  would  not  men- 
tion to  take  the  life  of  the  prisoner  secretly. 

"  It  hath  been  mooted  to  me,"  he  said,  lowering  his 
voice  to  a  whisper,  "  that  to  take  such  a  deed  on  me 
would  be  good  service  to  the  Queen  and  to  religion, 
but  I  cast  the  thought  from  me.  It  can  be  nought  but 
a  deadly  sin — accursed  of  God — and  were  I  to  con- 
sent, I  should  be  the  first  to  be  accused." 

"  It  would  be  no  better  than  the  King  of  Spain 
himself,"  exclaimed  Humfiey. 

"  Even  so,  young  man,  and  right  glad  am  I  to 
find  one  who  thinks  with  me.  For  the  other  prac- 
tices, they  are  none  of  mine,  and  is  it  not  written  '  In 


364  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOKY.  [CHAP, 

the  same  pit  which  they  laid  privily  is  their  foot 
taken '  1 " 

"  Then  there  are  other  practices  ?" 

"Ask  me  no  questions,  Mr.  Talbot.  All  will  be 
known  soon  enough.  Be  content  tliat  I  will  lay  no- 
thing on  you  inconsistent  with  the  honour  of  a  Chris- 
tian man,  knowing  that  you  will  serve  the  Queen 
faithfully." 

Humfrey  gave  his  word,  resolving  that  he  would 
warn  Cicely  to  reckon  henceforth  on  nothing  on  his 
part  that  did  not  befit  a  man  in  charge. 


xxvulJ  hunting  down  the  deee.  365 


CHAPTER    XXVIII. 

HUNTING   DOWN    THE    DEEE. 

HuMTREY  had  been  sworn  in  of  the  service  of  the 
Queen,  and  had  been  put  in  charge  of  the  guard  mus- 
tered at  Cliartley  for  about  ten  days,  during  which  he 
seldom  saw  Cicely,  and  wondered  much  not  to  have 
heard  from  home :  when  a  stag-hunt  was  arranged  to 
take  place  at  the  neighbouring  park  of  Tickhill  or  Tix- 
all,  belonging  to  Sir  Walter  Ash  ton. 

The  chase  always  invigorated  Queen  Mary,  and  she 
came  down  in  cheerful  spirits,  with  Cicely  and  Mary 
Seaton  as  her  attendants,  and  with  the  two  secretaries, 
Nau  and  Curll,  heading  the  other  attendants. 

"  Now,"  she  said  to  Cicely,  "  shall  I  see  this  swain, 
or  this  brother  of  thine,  who  hath  done  us  such  good 
service,  and  I  promise  you  there  will  be  more  in  my 
greeting  than  will  meet  Sir  Amias's  ear." 

But  to  Cicely's  disappointment  Humfrey  was  not 
among  the  horsemen  mustered  at  the  door  to  attend 
and  guard  the  Queen. 

"  My  little  maid's  eye  is  seeking  for  her  brother,"  said 
Mary,  as  Sir  Amias  advanced  to  assist  her  to  her  horse. 

"  He  hath  another  charge  which  will  keep  him  at 
home,"  replied  Paulett,  somewhat  gruffly,  and  they 
rode  ou. 


366  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

1 1  was  a  beautiful  day  in  early  August,  the  trees  in 
full  foliacje,  the  fields  seen  here  and  there  through 
them  assuming  their  amber  harvest  tints,  the  twin 
spires  of  Lichfield  rising  in  the  distance,  the  park  and 
forest  ground  through  which  the  little  hunting-party 
rode  rich  with  purple  heather,  illuminated  here  and 
there  with  a  bright  yellow  spike  or  star,  and  the  rapid 
motion  of  her  brisk  palfrey  animated  the  Queen.  She 
began  to  hope  that  Humfrey  had  after  all  brought  a 
false  alarm,  and  that  either  he  had  been  mistaken  or 
that  Langston  was  deceiving  the  Council  itself,  and 
though  Sir  Amias  Paulett's  close  proximity  held  her 
silent,  those  who  knew  her  best  saw  that  her  indomit- 
ably buoyant  spirits  were  rising,  and  she  hummed  to 
herself  the  refrain  of  a  gay  French  hunting-song,  with 
the  more  zest  perhaps  that  her  warder  held  himself 
trebly  upright,  stiff  and  solemn  under  it,  as  one  who 
thought  such  lively  tunes  equally  unbefitting  a  lady,  a 
queen,  and  a  captive.  So  at  least  Cis  imagined  as 
she  watched  them,  little  guessing  that  there  might  be 
deeper  reasons  of  compassion  and  something  like  com- 
punction to  add  to  the  gravity  of  the  old  knight's  face. 

As  they  came  in  siglit  of  the  gate  of  Tickhill  Park, 
they  became  aware  of  a  company  whose  steel  caps  and 
shouldered  arquebuses  did  not  look  like  those  of  hunts- 
men. Mary  bounded  in  her  saddle  ;  she  looked  round 
at  her  little  suite  with  a  glance  of  exultation  in  her 
eye,  which  said  as  plainly  as  words,  "  My  brave  friends, 
the  hour  has  come !"  and  she  quickened  her  steed, 
expecting,  no  doubt,  that  she  might  have  to  outride  Sir 
Amias  in  order  to  join  them. 

One  gentleman  came  forward  from  the  rest.  He 
held  a  parchment  in  his  hand,  and  as  soon  as  he  was 
alongside  ol  the  Queen  thus  read : — 


XXVIII.]  HUNTING  DOWN  THE  DEER.  367 

"Mary,  late  Queen  of  Scots  and  Queen  Dowager 
of  France,  I,  Thomas  Gorges,  attaint  thee  of  high 
treason  and  of  compassing  the  life  of  our  most  Gracious 
Majesty  Queen  Elizabeth,  in  company  with  Antony 
Babington,  John  Ballard,  Chidiock  Tichborne,  Eobert 
Barnwell,  and  others." 

Mary  held  up  her  hands,  and  raised  her  eyes  to 
Heaven,  and  a  protest  was  on  her  lips,  but  Gorges  cut 
it  short  with,  "  It  skills  not  denying  it,  madam.  The 
proofs  are  in  our  hands.  I  have  orders  to  conduct 
you  to  Tickhill,  while  seals  are  put  on  your  effects." 

"  That  there  may  be  proofs  of  your  own  making," 
said  the  Queen,  with"  dignity.  "  I  have  experience  of 
that  mode  of  judgment.  So,  Sir  Amias  Paulett,  the 
chase  you  lured  me  to  was  truly  of  a  poor  hunted  doe 
whom  you  think  you  have  run  down  at  last.  A 
worthy  chase  indeed,  and  of  long  continuance  !" 

"  I  do  but  obey  my  orders,  madam,"  said  Paulett, 
gloomily. 

"  Oh  ay,  and  so  does  the  sleuth-hound,"  said  Mary. 

"  Your  Grace  must  be  pleased  to  ride  on  with  me," 
said  Mr.  Gorges,  laying  his  hand  on  her  bridle. 

"  What  are  you  doing  with  those  gentlemen  ? "  cried 
Mary,  sharply  reining  in  her  horse,  as  she  saw  Nan  and 
Curll  surrounded  by  the  armed  men. 

"  They  will  be  dealt  with  after  her  Majesty's  plea- 
sure," returned  Paulett. 

Mary  dropped  her  rein  and  threw  up  her  hands  with 
a  gesture  of  despair,  but  as  Gorges  was  leading  her 
away,  she  turned  on  her  saddle,  and  raised  her  voice 
to  call  out,  "  Farewell,  my  true  and  faithful  servants  ! 
Betide  what  may,  your  mistress  will  remember  you 
in  her  prayers.     Curll,  we  will  take  care  of  your  wife." 

And  she  waved  her  hand   to  them  as  they  were 


368  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

made,  with  a  strong  guard,  to  ride  off  in  the  direction 
of  Lichfield.  All  the  way  to  Tickhill,  whither  she 
was  conducted  with  Gorges  and  Paulett  on  either  side 
of  her  horse,  Cis  could  hear  her  pleading  for  consider- 
ation for  poor  Barbara  Curll,  for  whose  sake  she  forgot 
her  own  dignity  and  became  a  suppliant. 

Sir  Walter  Ashton,  a  dull  heavy-looking  country 
gentleman  of  burly  form  and  ruddy  countenance,  stood 
at  his  door,  and  somewhat  clownishly  offered  his  ser- 
vices to  hand  her  from  her  horse. 

She  submitted  passively  tiU  she  had  reached  the 
upper  chamber  which  had  been  prepared  for  her,  and 
there,  turning  on  the  three  gentlemen,  demanded  the 
meaning  of  this  treatment. 

"  You  will  soon  know,  madam,"  said  Paulett.  "  I 
am  sorry  that  thus  it  should  be." 

"Thus  !"  repeated  Mary,  scornfully.  "AVhat  means 
this?" 

"  It  means,  madam,"  said  Gorges,  a  ruder  man  of 
less  feeling  even  than  Paulett,  "  that  your  practices 
with  recusants  and  seminary  priests  have  been  detected. 
The  traitors  are  in  the  Counter,  and  will  shortly  be 
brought  to  judgment  for  the  evil  purposes  which  have 
been  frustrated  by  the  mercy  of  Heaven." 

"  It  is  well  if  treason  against  my  good  sister's  person 
have  been  detected  and  frustrated,"  said  Mary ;  "  but 
how  doth  that  concern  me  ? " 

"  That,  madam,  the  papers  at  Cbartley  wiU  show," 
returned  Gorges.  "  Meantime  you  will  remain  here, 
till  her  Majesty's  pleasure  be  known." 

"  Where,  then,  are  my  women  and  my  servants  ? " 
inquired  the  Queen. 

"  Your  Grace  will  be  attended  by  the  servants  of 
Sir  Walter  Ashton." 


XXVIII.]  HUNTING  DOWN  THE  DEER.  369 

•'Gentlemen,  this  is  not  seemly,"  said  Mary,  the 
colour  coming  hotly  into  her  face.  "  I  know  it  is  not 
the  will  of  my  cousin,  the  Queen  of  England,  that  I 
should  remain  here  without  any  woman  to  attend  me, 
nor  any  change  of  garments.  You  are  exceeding  j  our 
commission,  and  she  shall  hear  of  it." 

Sir  Amias  Paulett  here  laid  his  hand  on  Gorges' 
arm,  and  after  exchanging  a  few  words  with  him,  said — ■ 

"  Madam,  this  young  lady.  Mistress  Talbot,  being 
simple,  and  of  a  loyal  house,  may  remain  with  you  for 
the  present.  For  the  rest,  seals  are  put  on  all  your 
effectB  at  Chartley,  and  nothing  can  be  removed  from 
thence,  but  what  is  needful  will  be  supplied  by  my 
Lady  Ashton.  I  bid  your  Grace  farewell,  craving  your 
pardon  for  what  may  have  been  hasty  in  this." 

Mary  stood  in  the  centre  of  the  floor,  full  of  her 
own  peculiar  injured  dignity,  not  answering,  but  making 
a  low  ironical  reverence.  Mary  Seaton  fell  on  her 
knees,  clung  to  the  Queen's  dress,  and  declared  that 
while  she  lived,  she  would  not  leave  her  mistress. 

"  Endure  this  also,  ma  mie,"  said  the  Queen,  in 
French.      "  Give   them   no  excuse  for  using  violence. 

They  would  not  scruple "  and  as  a  demonstration  to 

hinder  French-speaking  was  made  by  the  gentlemen, 
"  Fear  not  for  me,  I  shall  not  be  alone." 

"  I  understand  your  Grace  and  obey,"  said  Mary 
Seaton,  rising,  with  a  certain  bitterness  in  her  tone, 
Avhich  made  Mary  say — "  Ah  !  why  must  jealousy  mar 
the  fondest  affection  ?  Eemember,  it  is  their  choice,  not 
mine,  my  Seaton,  friend  of  my  youth.  Bear  my  loving 
gi'eetings  to  all.     And  take  care  of  poor  Barbara  !" 

"  Madam,  there  must  be  no  private  messages,"  said 
Paulett. 

"  I  send  no  messages  save  what  you  yourself  may 
2  B 


370  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP 

hear,  sir/'  replied  the  Queen.  "  My  greetings  to  my 
faithful  servants,  and  my  entreaty  that  all  care  and 
tenderness  may  be  shown  to  Mrs.  Curll." 

"  I  will  bear  them,  madam,"  said  the  knight,  "  and 
so  I  commend  you  to  God's  keeping,  praying  that  He 
may  send  you  repentance.  Believe  me,  madam,  I  am 
sorry  that  this  has  been  put  upon  me." 

To  this  Mary  only  replied  by  a  gesture  of  dismissal. 
The  three  gentlemen  drew  back,  a  key  grated  in  the 
lock,  and  the  mother  and  daughter  were  left  alone. 

To  Cicely  it  was  a  terrible  hopeless  sound,  and  even 
to  her  mother  it  was  a  lower  depth  of  wretche(iness. 
She  had  been  practically  a  captive  for  nearly  twenty 
years.  She  had  been  insulted,  watched,  guarded,  coerced, 
but  never  in  this  manner  locked  up  before. 

She  clasped  her  hands  together,  dropped  on  her 
knees  at  the  table  that  stood  by  her,  and  hid  her  face. 
So  she  continued  till  she  was  roused  by  the  sound  of 
Cicely's  sobs.  Frightened  and  oppressed,  and  new  to 
all  terror  and  sorrow,  the  girl  had  followed  her  example 
in  kneeling,  but  the  very  attempt  to  pray  brought  on 
a  fit  of  weeping,  and  the  endeavour  to  restrain  what 
might  disturb  the  Queen  only  rendered  the  sobs  more 
choking  and  strangling,  till  at  last  Mary  heard,  and 
coming  towards  her,  sat  down  on  the  floor,  gathered 
her  into  her  arms,  and  kissing  her  forehead,  said, 
"  Poor  bairnie,  and  did  she  weep  for  her  mother  ?  Have 
the  sorrows  of  her  house  come  on  her  ?" 

"  0  mother,  I  could  not  help  it !  I  meant  to  have 
comforted  you,"  said  Cicely,  between  her  sobs. 

"  And  so  thou  dost,  my  child.  Unwittingly  they 
have  left  me  that  which  was  most  precious  to  me." 

There  was  consolation  in  the  fondness  of  the  loving 
embrace,  at   least   to   such  sorrows   as  those  of    the 


XXVIII.]  HUNTING  DOWN  THE  DEER.  371 

maiden ;  and  Queen  Mary  liad  an  inalienable  power  of 
charming  the  will  and  affections  of  those  in  contact 
with  her,  so  that  insensibly  there  came  into  Cicely's 
heart  a  sense  that,  so  far  from  weeping,  she  should 
rejoice  at  being  the  one  creature  left  to  console  her 
mother, 

"  And,"  she  said  by  and  by,  looking  ap  with  a 
smile,  "  they  must  go  to  the  bottom  of  the  old  well  to 
find  anything." 

"  Hush,  lassie.  Never  speak  above  thy  breath  in  a 
prison  till  thou  know'st  whether  walls  have  ears.  And, 
apropos,  let  us  examine  what  sort  of  a  prison  they  have 
given  us  this  time." 

So  saying  Mary  rose,  and  leaning  on  her  daughter's 
arm,  proceeded  to  explore  her  new  abode.  Like  her 
apartment  at  the  Lodge,  it  was  at  the  top  of  the 
house,  a  fashion  not  uncommon  when  it  was  desirable 
to  make  the  lower  regions  defensible  ;  but,  whereas  she 
had  always  hitherto  been  placed  in  the  castles  of  the 
highest  nobility,  she  was  now  in  that  of  a  country 
knight  of  no  great  wealth  or  refinement,  and,  moreover, 
taken  by  surprise. 

So  the  plenishing  was  of  the  simplest.  The  walls 
were  covered  with  tapestry  so  faded  that  the  pattern 
could  hardly  be  detected.  The  hearth  yawned  dark 
and  dull,  and  by  it  stood  one  chair  with  a  moth-eaten 
cushion.  A  heavy  oaken  table  and  two  forms  were  in 
the  middle  of  the  room,  and  there  was  the  dreary,  fusty 
smell  of  want  of  habitation.  The  Queen,  whose  instincts 
for  fresh  air  were  always  a  distress  to  her  ladies,  sprang 
to  the  mullioned  window,  but  the  heavy  lattice  defied 
all  her  efforts. 

"  Let  us  see  the  rest  of  our  dominions,"  she  said, 
turning  to  a  door,  which  led  to  a  still  more  gloomy 


372  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

bedroom,  where  the  only  articles  of  fun.itnre  were  a 
great  carved  bed,  with  curtains  of  some  undefined  dark 
colour,  and  an  oaken  chest.  The  window  was  a 
mere  slit,  and  even  more  impracticable  than  that  of 
the  outer  room.  However,  tliis  did  not  seem  to  hor- 
rify Mary  so  much  as  it  did  her  daughter.  "  They 
cannot  mean  to  keep  us  here  long,"  she  said ;  "  perhaps 
only  for  the  day,  while  they  make  their  search — their 
unsuccessful  search — thanks  to — we  know  whom,  little 
one." 

"  I  hope  so  !  How  could  we  sleep  there  ?  "  said 
Cicely,  looking  with  a  shudder  at  tlie  bed. 

"  Tush  !  I  have  seen  worse  in  Scotland,  mignonne, 
ay  and  when  I  was  welcomed  as  liege  lady,  not  as 
a  cap)tive.  I  have  slept  in  a  box  like  a  coffin  with  one 
side  open,  and  I  have  likewise  slept  on  a  plaidie  on 
the  braw  purple  blossoms  of  freshly  pulled  heather ! 
Nay,  the  very  thought  makes  this  cliamber  doubly 
mouldy  and  stifling !  Let  the  old  knight  beware.  If 
he  open  not  his  window  I  shall  break  it !  Soft.  Here 
he  comes." 

Sir  Walter  Ashton  appeared,  louting  low,  looking 
half- dogged,  half- sheepish,  and  escorting  two  heavy- 
footed,  blue-coated  serving-men,  who  proceeded  to  lay 
the  cloth,  which  at  least  had  the  merit  of  being  per- 
fectly clean  and  white.  Two  more  brought  in  covered 
silver  dishes,  one  of  which  contained  a  Yorkshire 
pudding,  the  other  a  piece  of  roast-beef,  apparently 
calculated  to  satisfy  five  hungry  men.  A  flagon  of 
sack,  a  tankard  of  ale,  a  dish  of  apples,  and  a  large  loaf 
of  bread,  completed  the  meal  ;  at  which  the  Queen 
and  Cicely,  accustomed  daily  to  a  first  table  of  six- 
teen dishes  and  a  second  of  nine,  compounded  by  her 
Grace's  own  French  cooks  and  pantlers,  looked  with  a 


XXVIII.]  HUNTING  DOWN  THE  DEER.  373 

certain  amused  dismay,  as  Sir  Walter,  standing  by  the 
table,  produced  a  dagger  from  a  sheath  at  his  belt,  and 
took  up  with  it  first  a  mouthful  of  the  pudding,  then 
cut  off  a  corner  of  the  beef,  finished  off  some  of  the 
bread,  and  having  swallowed  these,  as  well  as  a 
draught  of  each  of  the  liquors,  said,  "  Good  and  sound 
meats,  not  tampered  with,  as  I  hereby  testify.  You 
take  us  suddenly,  madam ;  but  I  thank  Heaven,  none 
ever  found  us  unprovided.  Will  it  please  you  to  fall 
to  ?     Your  woman  can  eat  after  you," 

Mary's  courtesy  was  unfailing,  and  though  she  felt 
all  a  Frenchwoman's  disgust  at  the  roast-beef  of  old 
England,  she  said,  "  We  are  too  close  companions  not 
to  eat  together,  and  I  fear  she  will  be  the  best  trencher 
comrade,  for,  sir,  I  am  a  woman  sick  and  sorrowful,  and 
have  little  stomach  for  meat." 

As  Sir  Walter  carved  a  huge  red  piece  from  the  ribs, 
she  could  not  help  shrinking  back  from  it,  so  that  he 
said  with  some  affront,  "  You  need  not  be  queasy, 
madam,  it  was  cut  from  a  home-fed  bullock,  only  killed 
three  days  since,  and  as  prime  a  beast  as  any  in 
Stafford." 

"  Ah  !  yes,  sir.  It  is  not  the  fault  of  the  beef,  but 
of  my  feebleness.  Mistress  Talbot  will  do  it  reason. 
But  I,  methinks  I  could  eat  better  were  the  windows 
opened." 

But  Sir  Walter  replied  that  these  windows  were 
not  of  the  new-fangled  sort,  made  to  open,  that  honest 
men  might  get  rheums,  and  foolish  maids  prate  there- 
from. So  there  was  no  hope  in  that  direction.  He 
really  seemed  to  be  less  ungracious  than  utterly  clownish, 
dull,  and  untaught,  and  extremely  shy  and  embarrassed 
with  his  prisoner. 

Cicely  poured  out  some  wine,  and  persuaded  her  to 


374  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

dip  some  bread  in,  which,  with  an  apple,  was  all  she  could 
taste.  However,  the  fare,  though  less  nicely  served 
than  by  good  Mrs.  Susan,  was  not  so  alien  to  Cicely, 
and  she  was  of  an  age  and  constitution  to  be  made 
hungry  by  anxiety  and  trouble,  so  that — encouraged  by 
the  Queen  whenever  she  would  have  desisted — she 
ended  by  demolishing  a  reasonable  amount. 

Sir  Walter  stood  all  the  time,  looking  on  moodily 
and  stolidly,  with  his  cap  in  his  hand.  The  Queen 
tried  to  talk  to  him,  and  make  inquiries  of  him,  but 
he  had  probably  steeled  himself  to  her  blandishments, 
for  nothing  but  gruff  monosyllables  could  be  extracted 
from  him,  except  when  he  finally  asked  what  she  would 
be  pleased  to  have  for  supper. 

"  Mine  own  cook  and  pantler  have  hitherto  pro- 
vided for  me.  They  would  save  your  household  the 
charge,  sir,"  said  Mary,  "  and  I  would  be  at  charges 
for  them." 

"Madam,  I  can  bear  the  charge  in  the  Queen's 
service.  Your  black  guard  are  under  ward.  And  if 
not,  no  French  jackanapes  shall  ever  brew  his  messes 
in  my  kitchen !  Command  honest  English  fare, 
madam,  and  if  it  be  within  my  compass,  you  shall 
have  it.  No  one  shall  be  stinted  in  Walter  Ash  ton's 
house ;  but  I'll  not  away  with  any  of  your  •  outlandish 
kickshaws.  Come,  what  say  you  to  eggs  and  bacon, 
madam  ? " 

"As  you  will,  sir,"  replied  IVfary,  listlessly.  And  Sir 
Walter,  opening  the  door,  shouted  to  his  serving-man, 
who  speedily  removed  the  meal,  he  going  last  and 
making  his  clumsy  reverence  at  the  door,  which  he 
locked  behind  him. 

"  So,"  said  Mary,  "  I  descend  !  I  have  had  the 
statesman,  the  earl,  the   courtly  knight,  the   pedantic 


XXVIII.]  HUNTING  DOWN  THE  DEER.  '375 

Huguenot,  for  my  warders.  Now  am  I  come  to  tlie 
clown.  Soon  will  it  be  the  duncfeon  and  the 
headsman." 

"  0  dear  madam  mother,  speak  not  thus,"  cried. 
Cicely.  "  Eemember  they  can  find  nothing  against 
you." 

"  They  can  make  what  they  cannot  find,  my  poor 
child.  If  they  thirst  for  my  blood,  it  will  cost  them 
little  to  forge  a  plea.  Ah,  lassie !  there  have  been 
tunes  when  nothing  but  my  cousin  Elizabeth's  con- 
science, or  her  pity,  stood  between  me  and  doom.  If 
she  be  brought  to  think  that  I  have  compassed  her 
death,  why  then  there  is  naught  for  it  but  to  lay  my 
head  on  the  same  pillow  as  Norfolk  and  More  and 
holy  Fisher,  and  many  another  beside.  Well,  be  it  so  ! 
I  shall  die  a  martyr  for  the  Holy  Church,  and  thus 
may  I  atone  by  God's  mercy  for  my  many  sins  !  Yea,  I 
offer  myself  a  sacrifice,"  she  said,  folding  her  hands  and 
looking  upward  with  a  light  on  her  face.  "  0  do  Thou 
accept  it,  and  let  my  sufferings  purge  away  my  many 
misdeeds,  and  render  it  a  pure  and  acceptable  offering 
unto  Thee,  Child,  child,"  she  added,  turning  to  Cicely, 
"  would  that  thou  wert  of  my  faith,  then  couldst  thou 
pray  for  me." 

"  0  mother,  mother,  I  can  do  that.  I  do  pray  foi 
thee." 

And  hand  in  hand,  with  tears  often  rising,  they 
knelt  while  Mary  repeated  in  broken  voice  the 
Miserere. 


376  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 


CHAPTER   XXIX. 

THE   SEARCH. 

HUMFREY  had  been  much  disappointed,  when,  instead  of 
joining  the  hunt,  Sir  Amias  Paulett  bade  him  undertake 
the  instruction  of  half  a  dozen  extremely  awkward 
peasants,  who  had  been  called  in  to  increase  the  guard, 
but  who  did  not  know  how  to  shoulder,  load,  or  fire 
an  arquebus,  had  no  command  of  their  own  limbs,  and, 
if  put  to  stand  sentry,  would  quite  innocently  loll  in 
the  nearest  corner,  and  go  to  sleep.  However,  he 
reflected  that  if  he  were  resident  in  the  same  house  as 
Cicely  he  could  not  expect  opportunities  to  be  daily 
made  for  their  meeting,  and  he  addressed  himself  with 
all  his  might  to  the  endeavour  to  teach  his  awkward 
squad  to  stand  upright  for  five  minutes  together. 
Sturdy  fellows  as  they  were,  he  had  not  been  able  to 
hinder  them  from  lopping  over  in  all  directions,  when 
horses  were  heard  approaching.  Every  man  of  them, 
regardless  of  discipline,  lumbered  off  to  stare,  and 
Humfrey,  after  shouting  at  them  in  vain,  and  wishing 
he  had  them  all  on  board  ship,  gave  up  the  endeavour 
to  recall  them,  and  followed  their  example,  repairing  to 
the  hall-door,  wlien  he  found  Sir  Amias  Paulett  dis- 
mounting, together  with  a  clerkly-looking  personage, 
attended  by  Will  Cavendish.     Mary  Seaton  was  being 


XXIX.]  THE  SEARCH.  377 

assisted  from  her  horse,  evidently  in  great  grief;  and 
others  of  the  personal  attendants  of  Mary  w^ere  there, 
but  neither  herself,  Cicely,  nor  the  Secretaries. 

Before  he  had  time  to  ask  questions,  his  old  com- 
panion came  up  to  him.  "  You  here  still,  Humfrey  ! 
Well !  You  have  come  in  for  the  outburst  of  the 
train  you  scented  out  when  you  were  with  us  in 
London,  though  I  could  not  then  speak  explicitly." 

"  What  mean  you  ?  Where  is  Cicely  ?  Where  is 
the  Queen  of  Scots  ?  "  asked  Humfrey  anxiously. 

Sir  Amias  Paulett  heard  him,  and  replied,  "  Your 
sister  is  safe.  Master  Talbot,  and  with  the  Queen  of 
Scots  at  Tixall  Castle.  We  permitted  her  attend- 
ance, as  being  young,  simple,  and  loyal ;  she  is  less  like 
to  serve  for  plots  than  her  elders  in  that  lady's  service." 

Sir  Amias  strode  on,  conducting  with .  him  his 
guest,  whom  Cavendish  explained  to  be  Mr.  Wade, 
sworn  by  her  Majesty's  Council  to  take  possession  of 
Queen  Mary's  effects,  and  there  make  search  for 
evidence  of  the  conspiracy.  Cavendish  followed,  and 
Humfrey  took  leave  to  do  the  same. 

The  doors  of  the  Queen's  apartment  were  opened 
at  the  summons  of  Sir  Amias  Paulett,  and  Sir  Andrew 
Melville,  Mistress  Kennedy,  Marie  de  Courcelles,  and 
the  rest,  stood  anxiously  demanding  what  was  become 
of  their  Queen.  They  were  briefly  and  harshly  told 
that  her  foul  and  abominable  plots  and  conspiracies 
against  the  life  of  the  Queen,  and  the  peace  of  the 
Kingdom,  had  been  brought  to  light,  and  that  she  was 
under  secure  ward. 

Jean  Kennedy  demanded  to  be  taken  to  her  at 
once,  but  Paulett  replied,  "  That  must  not  be,  madam. 
We  have  strict  commands  to  keep  her  secluded  from 
aU." 


378  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOEY.  [CHAP. 

Marie  de  Courcelles  screamed  akiid  and  wrung  her 
hands,  crying,  "  If  ye  have  slain  her,  only  tell  us 
quickly ! "  Sir  Andrew  Melville  gTavely  protested 
against  such  a  barbarous  insult  to  a  Queen  of  Scot- 
land and  France,  and  was  answered,  "  No  queen,  sir, 
but  a  State  criminal,  as  we  shall  presently  show." 

Here  Barbara  Curll  pressed  forward,  asking  wildly 
for  her  husband ;  and  AYade  replying,  with  brutal 
brevity,  that  he  was  taken  to  London  to  be  examined 
for  his  practices  before  the  Council,  the  poor  lady,  well 
knowing  that  examination  often  meant  torture,  fell 
back  in  a  swoon. 

"  We  shall  do  nothing  with  all  these  women  crying 
and  standing  about,"  said  Wade  impatiently;  "have 
them  all  away,  while  we  put  seals  on  the  effects." 

"  Kay,  sirs,"  said  Jean  Kennedy.  "  Suffer  me 
first  to  send  her  Grace  some  changes  of  garments." 

"  I  tell  thee,  woman,"  said  Wade,  "  our  orders  are 
precise !  Not  so  much  as  a  kerchief  is  to  be  taken 
from  these  chambers  till  search  hath  been  made.  We 
know  what  practices  may  lurk  in  the  smallest  rag." 

"  It  is  barbarous  !  It  is  atrocious  !  The  King  of 
France  shall  hear  of  it,"  shrieked  Marie  de  Courcelles. 

"  The  King  of  France  has  enough  to  do  to  take 
care  of  himself,  my  good  lady,"  returned  Wade,  Avith 
a  sneer. 

"  Sir,"  said  Jean  Kennedy,  with  more  dignity,  turn- 
ing to  Sir  Amias  Paulett,  "  I  cannot  believe  that  it  can 
be  by  the  orders  of  the  Queen  of  England,  herself  a 
woman,  that  my  mistress,  her  cousin,  should  be  de- 
prived of  all  attendance,  and  even  of  a  change  of  linen. 
Such  unseemly  commands  can  never  have  been  issued 
from  herself." 

"  She  is  not  without  attendance,"  rephed  the  knight, 


XXIX.]  THE  SEARCH.  379 

"  tlie  little  Talbot  wench  is  with  her,  and  for  the  rest, 
Sir  Walter  and  Lady  Ashton  have  orders  to  supply  her 
needs  during  her  stay  among  them.  She  is  treated 
with  all  honour,  and  is  lodged  in  the  best  chambers," 
he  added,  consolingly. 

"We  must  dally  no  longer,"  called  out  Wade. 
"  Have  away  all  this  throng  into  ward,  Sir  Amias. 
We  can  do  nothing  with  them  here." 

There  was  no  help  for  it.  Sir  Andrew  Melville  did 
indeed  pause  to  enter  his  protest,  but  that,  of  course, 
went  for  nothing  with  the  Commissioners,  and  Himifrey 
was  ordered  to  conduct  them  to  the  upper  gallery,  there 
to  await  further  orders.  It  was  a  long  passage,  in  the 
highly  pointed  roof,  with  small  chambers  on  either 
side  which  could  be  used  when  there  was  a  press  of 
guests.  There  was  a  steep  stair,  as  the  only  access, 
and  it  could  be  easily  guarded,  so  Sir  Amias  directed 
Humfrey  to  post  a  couple  of  men  at  the  foot,  and  to 
visit  and  relieve  them  from  time  to  time. 

It  was  a  sad  procession  that  climbed  up  those 
narrow  stairs,  of  those  faithful  followers  who  were 
sejDarated  from  their  Queen  for  the  first  time.  The 
servants  of  lower  rank  were  merely  watched  in  their 
kitchen,  and  not  allowed  to  go  beyond  its  courtyard, 
but  were  permitted  to  cook  for  and  wait  on  the 
others,  and  bring  them  such  needful  furniture  as  was 
required. 

Humfrey  was  very  sorry  for  them,  having  had  some 
acquaintance  with  them  all  his  life,  and  he  was  dis- 
mayed to  find  himself,  instead  of  watching  over  Cicely, 
separated  from  her  and  made  a  jailer  against  his  will. 
And  when  he  returned  to  the  Queen's  apartments,  he 
found  Cavendish  holding  a  taper,  while  Paulett  and 
Wade  were  vigorously  aflixiug  cords,  fastened  at  each 


380  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

end  by  huge  red  seals  bearing  the  royal  arms,  to  every 
receptacle,  and  rudely  plucking  back  the  curtains  that 
veiled  the  ivory  crucifix.  Sir  Amias's  zeal  would  have 
"plucked  down  the  idol,"  as  he  said,  but  Wade  re- 
strained him  by  reminding  him  that  all  injmy  or 
damage  was  forbidden. 

Not  till  all  was  sealed,  and  a  guard  had  been 
stationed  at  the  doors,  would  the  Commissioners  taste 
any  dinner,  and  then  their  conversation  was  brief  and 
guarded,  so  that  Humfrey  could  discover  little.  He 
did,  indeed,  catch  the  name  of  Babington  in  connection 
with  the  "  Counter  prison,"  and  a  glance  of  inquiry  to 
Cavendish,  with  a  nod  in  return,  showed  him  that  his 
suspicions  were  correct,  but  he  learnt  little  or  nothing 
more  till  the  two,  together  with  Phillipps,  drew  to- 
gether in  the  deep  window,  with  wine,  apples,  and 
pears  on  the  ledge  before  them,  for  a  private  discussion. 
Humfrey  went  away  to  see  that  the  sentries  at  the 
staircase  were  relieved,  and  to  secure  that  a  sufficient 
meal  for  the  unfortunate  captives  in  the  upper  stories 
had  been  allowed  to  pass.  Will  Cavendish  went  with 
him.  He  had  known  these  ladies  and  gentlemen  far 
more  intimately  than  Humfrey  had  done,  and  allow  (id 
that  it  was  harsh  measure  that  they  suffered  for  their 
fidelity  to  their  native  sovereign, 

"  No  harm  will  come  to  them  in  the  end,"  he  said, 
"  but  what  can  we  do  ?  That  very  faithfulness  would 
lead  them  to  traverse  our  purposes  did  we  not  shut 
them  up  closely  out  of  reach  of  meddling,  and  there  is 
no  other  place  where  it  can  be  done." 

"And  what  are  these  same  purposes?"  asked 
Humfrey,  as,  having  fulfilled  his  commission,  the  two 
young  men  strolled  out  into  the  garden  and  threw 
themselves  on  the  gTass,  close  to  a  large  mulberry-tree, 


XXIX.]  THE  SEARCH.  381 

whose  luscious  fruit  dropped  round,  and  hung  m  it-bin 
easy  reach. 

"  To  trace  out  all  the  coils  of  as  villainous  and 
bloodthirsty  a  plot  as  ever  was  hatched  in  a  traitor's 
brain,"  said  Will ;  "  but  they  little  knew  that  we  over- 
looked their  designs  the  whole  time.  Thou  wast 
mystified  in  London,  honest  Humfrey,  I  saw  it  plainly; 
but  I  might  not  then  speak  out,"  he  added,  with  all  his 
official  self-importance. 

"  And  poor  Tony  hath  brought  himself  within 
compass  of  the  law  ?" 

"  Verily  you  may  say  so.  But  Tony  Babington 
always  was  a  fool,  and  a  wrong-headed  fool,  who  was 
sure  to  ruin  himself  sooner  or  later.  You  remember 
the  decoy  for  the  wild-fowl  ?  Well,  never  was  silly  duck 
or  goose  so  ready  to  swim  into  the  nets  as  was  he  !" 

"  He  always  loved  this  Queen,  yea,  and  the  old 
faith." 

"  He  sucked  in  the  poison  with  his  mother's  milk, 
you  may  say.  Mrs.  Babington  was  naught  but  a 
concealed  Papist,  and,  coming  from  her,  it  cost  nothing 
to  this  Queen  to  beguile  him  when  he  was  a  mere  lad, 
and  make  him  do  her  errands,  as  you  know  full  well 
Then  what  must  my  Lord  Earl  do  but  send  him  to 
that  bitter  Puritan  at  Cambridge,  who  turned  him  all 
the  more  that  way,  out  of  very  contradiction.  My 
Lord  thought  him  cured  of  his  Popish  inclinations,  and 
never  guessed  tliey  had  only  led  him  among  those  who 
taught  him  to  dissemble." 

"  And  that  not  over  well,"  said  Humfrey.  "  My 
father  never  trusted  him." 

"  And  would  not  give  him  your  sister.  Yea, 
but  the  counterfeit  was  good  enough  for  my  Lord 
who   sees   nothing  but   what  is  before  his  nose,  and 


382  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

for  my  mother  who  sees  nothing  but  what  she 
vjill  see.  Well,  he  had  fallen  in  with  those  who 
deem  this  same  Mary  our  only  lawful  Queen,  and 
would  fain  set  her  on  the  throne  to  bring  back  fire 
and  faggot  by  the  Spanish  sword  among  us." 

"  I  deemed  him  well-nigh  demented  with  brooding 
over  her  troubles  and  those  of  his  church." 

"Demented  in  verity.  His  folly  was  surpassing. 
He  put  his  faith  in  a  recusant  priest — one  John 
Ballard — who  goes  ruffling  about  as  Captain  Fortescue 
in  velvet  hose  and  a  silver-laced  cloak." 

"Ha!" 

"  Hast  seen  him  ?" 

"Ay,  in  company  with  Babington,  on  the  day  I 
came  to  London,  passing  through  Westminster." 

"  Very  like.  Their  chief  place  of  meeting  was  at  a 
house  at  Westminster  belonging  to  a  fellow  named 
Gage.  We  took  some  of  them  there.  Well,  this 
Ballard  teaches  poor  Antony,  by  way  of  gospel  truth, 
that  'tis  the  mere  duty  of  a  good  Catholic  to  slay  the 
enemies  of  the  church,  and  that  he  who  kills  our 
gracious  Queen,  whom  God  defend,  will  do  the  holiest 
deed ;  just  as  they  gulled  the  fellow,  who  murdered  the 
Prince  of  Orange,  and  then  died  in  torments,  deeming 
himself  a  holy  martyr." 

"  But  it  was  not  Babington  whom  I  saw  at  Bich- 
mond." 

"  Hold,  I  am  ooniing  to  that.  Let  me  tell  you  the 
Queen  bore  it  in  mind,  and  asked  after  you.  Well, 
Babington  has  a  number  of  friends,  as  hot-brained  and 
fanatical  as  himself,  and  when  once  he  had  swallowed 
the  notion  of  privily  murdering  the  Queen,  he  got  so 
enamoured  of  it,  that  he  swore  in  five  more  to  aid  him 
in  the  enterprise,  and  then  what  must  they  do  but  have 


XXIX.]  THE  SEARCH.  383 

all  their  portraits  taken  in  one  picture  with  a  Latin 
motto  around  tliem.      What !      Thou  hast  seen  it  ?" 

"  He  showed  it  to  me  in  Paul's  AValk,  and  said  I 
should  hear  of  them,  and  I  thought  one  of  them  mar- 
vellously like  the  fellow  I  had  seen  in  Itichmoud  Park." 

"  So  thought  her  Majesty.  But  more  of  that  anon. 
On  the  self-same  day  as  the  Queen  was  to  be  slain  by 
these  sacrilegious  wretches,  another  band  was  to  fall 
on  this  place,  free  the  lady  and  proclaim  her,  while 
the  Prince  of  Parma  landed  from  the  Netherlands  and 
brought  fire  and  sword  with  him." 

"  And  Antony  would  have  brought  this  upon  us?" 
said  Humfrey,  still  slow  to  believe  it  of  his  old  com- 
rade. 

"  All  for  the  true  religion's  sake,"  said  Cavendish. 
"  They  were  riuging  bells  and  giving  thanks,  for  the 
discovery  and  baffling  thereof,  when  we  came  down 
from  London." 

"  As  well  they  might,"  said  Humfrey.  "  But  how 
was  it  detected  and  overthrown  ?  Was  it  through 
Langston  ?" 

"  Ah,  ha  !  we  had  had  the  strings  in  our  hands  all 
along.  Why,  Langston,  as  thou  namest  him,  though  we 
call  him  Maude,  and  a  master  spy  called  Gilford,  have 
kept  us  warned  thoroughly  of  every  stage  in  the  busi- 
ness. Maude  even  contrived  to  borrow  the  picture  under 
colour  of  getting  it  .blessed  by  the  Pope's  agent,  and 
lent  it  to  Mr.  Secretary  Walsingham,  by  whom  it  \'^as 
privily  shown  to  the  Queen.  Thereby  she  recognised 
the  rogue  Barnwell,  an  Irishman  it  seems,  when  she 
was  walking  in  the  Park  at  Eichmond  with  only  her 
women  and  Sir  Christopher  Hatton,  who  is  better  at 
dancing  than  at  fighting.  Not  a  sign  did  she  give,  but 
she  kept  liim  in  check  with  her  royal  eye,  so  that  lie 


384  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CIL^P. 

durst  not  so  much  as  draw  his  pistol  fiom  his  cloak; 
but  she  owned  afterwards  to  my  Lady  Norris  that  she 
could  have  kissed  you  when  you  came  between,  and 
all  the  more,  when  you  caught  her  meaning  and  fol- 
lowed her  bidding  silently.  You  will  hear  of  it  again, 
Humps." 

"  However  that  may  be,  it  is  a  noble  thing  to  have 
seen  such  courage  in  a  woman  and  a  queen.  But  how 
could  thej^  let  it  go  so  near  ?  I  could  shudder  now  to 
tliink  of  the  risk  to  her  person ! " 

"  There  goes  more  to  policy  than  you  yet  wot  of," 
said  Will,  in  his  patronising  tone.  "  In  truth,  Barn- 
well had  started  off  unknowm  to  his  comrades,  hoping 
to  have  the  glory  of  the  achievement  all  to  himself  by 
forestalling  them,  or  else  Mr.  Secretary  would  have 
been  warned  in  time  to  secure  the  Queen." 

"  But  wlierefore  leave  these  traitors  at  large  to 
work  mischief  ? " 

"  See  you  not,  you  simple  Humfrey,  that,  as  I  said 
methinks  some  time  since,  it  is  well  sometimes  to  give 
a  rogue  rope  enough  and  he  will  haug  himself  ?  Close 
the  trap  too  soon,  and  you  miss  the  biggest  rat  cf  all. 
So  we  waited  until  the  prey  seemed  shy  and  about  to 
escape.  Babington  had,  it  seems,  suspected  Maude  or 
Langston,  or  whatever  you  call  him,  and  had  ridden  out 
of  town,  hiding  in  St.  John's  Wood  with  some  of  his 
fellows,  till  they  were  starved  out,  and  trying  to  creep 
into  some  outbuildings  at  Harrow,  were  there  taken, 
and  brought  into  London  the  morning  \ve  came  away. 
Ballard,  the  blackest  villain  of  all,  is  likewise  in  ward, 
and  here  we  are  to  complete  our  evidence." 

"  Nay,  throughout  all  yon  have  said,  I  have  heard 
nothing  to  explain  this  morning's  work." 

Will  laughed  outright.     "  And  so  you  think  all  this 


XXIX.]  THE  SEARCH.  385 

would  have  Leen  clone  without  a  word  from  their  liege 
lady,  the  princess  they  all  wanted  to  deliver  from 
captivity !  No,  no,  sir !  'Twas  thus.  There's  an 
honest  man  at  Burton,  a  hrewer,  who  sends  beer  week 
by  week  for  this  house,  and  very  good  ale  it  is,  as  I  can 
testify.  I  wish  I  had  a  tankard  of  it  here  to  qualify 
these  mulberries.  This  same  brewer  is  instructed  by 
Gifford,  whose  uncle  lives  in  these  parts,  to  fit  a  false 
bottom  to  one  of  his  barrels,  wherein  is  a  box  fitted  for 
the  receipt  of  letters  and  parcels.  Then  by  some  means, 
through  Langston  I  believe,  Babington  and  Gifford 
made  known  to  the  Queen  of  Scots  and  the  French 
ambassador  that  here  was  a  sure  way  of  sending  and 
receiving  letters.  The  Queen's  butler,  old  Hannibal, 
was  to  look  in  the  bottom  of  the  barrel  with  the  yellow 
hoop,  and  one  Barnes,  a  familiar  of  Gifford  and  Babing- 
ton, undertook  the  freight  at  the  other  tJiid.  The 
ambassador,  M.  de  Chateauneuf,  seemed  to  doubt  at 
first,  and  sent  a  single  letter  by  way  of  experiment, 
and  that  having  been  duly  delivered  and  answered,  the 
bait  was  swallowed,  and  not  a  week  has  gone  by  but 
letters  have  come  and  gone  from  hence,  all  being  first 
opened,  copied,  and  deciphered  by  worthy  Mr.  Phillipps, 
and  every  word  of  them  laid  before  the  Council." 

"  Hum  !  We  should  not  have  reckoned  tliat  fair  play 
when  we  went  to  Master  Sniggius's,"  observed  Hum- 
frey,  as  he  heard  his  companion's  tone  of  exultation. 

''  Fair  play  is  a  jewel  that  will  not  pass  current  in 
statecraft,"  responded  Cavendish.  "  Moreover,  that 
the  plotter  should  be  plotted  against  is  surely  only  his 
desert.  But  thou  art  a  mere  sailor,  my  Talbot,  and 
these  subtilties  of  policy  are  not  for  thee." 

"  For  the  which  Heaven  be  praised  !"  said  Humfrey. 
"  Yet  having,  as  you  say,  read  all  tht^se  letters  by  th(* 

2  c 


386  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOKY.  [CIUP. 

way,  1  see  not  wherefore  ye  are  come  down  to  seek  foi 
more." 

Will  here  imitated  the  Lord  Treasurer's  nod  as  well 
as  in  him  lay,  not  perhaps  himself  knowing  the  darker 
recesses  of  this  same  plot.  He  did  know  so  much  as 
that  every  stage  in  it  had  been  revealed  to  "Walsingham 
and  Burghley  as  it  proceeded.  He  did  not  know  that 
the  entire  scheme  had  been  hatched,  not  by  a  blind  and 
fanatical  partisan  of  Mary's,  doing  evil  that  what  he  sup- 
posed to  be  good  might  come,  but  by  Gilford  and  Morgan, 
Walsingham's  agents,  for  the  express  purpose  of  causing 
Mary  totally  to  ruin  herself,  and  to  compel  Elizabeth 
to  put  her  to  death,  and  that  the  unhappy  Babington 
and  his  friends  were  thus  recklessly  sacrificed.  The 
assassin  had  even  been  permitted  to  appear  in  Eliza- 
beth's presence  in  order  to  terrify  her  into  the  convic- 
tion that  her  life  could  only  be  secured  by  Mary's 
death.  They,  too,  did  evil  that  good  might  come, 
thinking  Mary's  death  alone  could  ensure  them  from 
Pope  and  Spaniard ;  but  surely  they  descended  into  a 
lower  depth  of  iniquity  than  did  their  victims. 

Will  himself  was  not  certain  what  was  wanted 
among  the  Queen's  papers,  unless  it  might  be  the  actual 
letters  from  Babington,  copies  of  which  had  been  given 
by  Phillipps  to  the  Council,  so  he  only  looked  sagacious ; 
and  Humfrey  thought  of  the  Castle  Well,  and  felt  the 
satisfaction  there  is  in  seeing  a  hunted  creature  escape. 
He  asked,  however,  about  Cuthbert  Langston,  saying, 
"  He  is — woi'se  luck,  as  you  may  have  heard — akin  to 
my  father,  who  always  pitied  him  as  misguided,  but 
thought  him  as  sincere  in  his  folly  as  ever  was  this 
imlucky  Babington." 

"  So  he  seems  to  have  been  till  of  late.  He  hovered 
about  in  sundry  disguises,  as  you  knciw,  much  to  the 


XXIX.]  THE  SEARCH.  387 

torment  of  us  all ;  but  finally  he  seems  to  have  taken 
some  umbrage  at  the  lady,  thinking  she  flouted  his 
services,  or  did  not  pay  him  high  enough  for  them,  and 
Gifford  bought  him  over  easily  enough  ;  but  he  goes 
with  us  by  the  name  of  Maude,  and  the  best  of  it  is 
that  the  poor  fools  thought  he  was  hoodwinking  us  all 
the  time.  They  never  dreamt  that  we  saw  through 
them  like  glass.  Babington  was  himself,  with  Mr. 
Secretary  only  last  week,  offering  to  go  to  France  on 
business  for  him — the  traitor  !  Hark  !  there  are  more 
sounds  of  horse  hoofs.    Who  comes  now,  I  marvel !" 

This  was  soon  answered  by  a  serving-man,  who 
hurried  out  to  tell  Humfrey  that  his  father  was  arrived, 
and  in  a  few  moments  the  young  man  was  blessed  and 
embraced  by  the  good  Eichard,  while  Diccon  stood  by, 
considerably  repaired  in  flesh  and  colour  by  his  brief 
stay  under  his  mother's  care. 

Mr.  Eichard  Talbot  was  heartily  welcomed  by  Sir 
Amias  Paulett,  who  regretted  that  his  daughter  was 
out  of  reach,  but  did  not  make  any  offer  of  facilitating 
their  meeting. 

Richard  explained  that  he  was  on  his  way  to 
London  on  behalf  of  the  Earl.  Eeports  and  letters, 
not  very  clear,  had  reached  Sheffield  of  young  Babing- 
ton being  engaged  in  a  most  horrible  conspiracy  against 
the  Queen  and  country,  and  my  Lord  and  my  Lady, 
who  still  preserved  a  great  kindness  for  their  former 
ward,  could  hardly  believe  it,  and  had  sent  their  useful 
and  trustworthy  kinsman  to  learn  the  truth,  and  to 
find  out  whether  any  amount  of  fine  or  forfeiture  would 
avail  to  save  his  life. 

Sir  Amias  thought  it  would  be  a  fruitless  errand, 
and  so  did  Eichard  himself,  when  he  had  heard  as 
nmch  of  the  history  as  it  suited  Paulett  and  Wade  to 


388  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

toll,  and  though  they  esteemed  and  trusted  him,  they 
did  not  care  to  go  beneath  that  outer  surface  of  the 
plot  which  was  filling  all  London  with  fury. 

When,  having  finished  their  after-dinner  repose,  they 
repaired  to  make  farther  search,  taking  Cavendish  to 
assist,  they  somewhat  reluctantly  thought  it  due  to  Mr. 
Talbot  to  invite  his  presence,  but  he  declined.  He  and 
his  son  had  much  to  say  to  one  another,  he  observed, 
and  not  long  to  say  it  in. 

"  Besides,"  he  added,  when  he  found  himself  alone 
with  Humfrey,having  despatched  Diccon  on  some  errand 
to  the  stables,  "  'tis  a  sorry  sight  to  see  all  the  poor 
Lady's  dainty  hoards  turned  out  by  strangers.  If  it 
must  be,  it  must,  but  it  would  irk  me  to  be  an  idle 
gazer  thereon." 

"  I  would  only,"  said  Humfrey,  "  be  assured  that 
they  would  not  light  on  the  proofs  of  Cicely's  birth." 

'•'  Thou  mayst  be  at  rest  on  that  score,  my  son. 
The  Lady  saw  them,  owned  them,  and  bade  thy  mother 
keep  them,  saying  ours  were  safer  hands  than  hers.  Thy 
mother  was  sore  grieved,  Humfrey,  when  she  saw  thee 
not ;  but  she  sends  thee  her  blessing,  and  saith  thou 
dost  right  to  stay  and  watch  over  poor  little  Cis." 

"  It  were  well  if  I  were  watching  over  her,"  said 
Humfrey,  "  but  she  is  mewed  up  at  Tixall,  and  I  am 
only  keeping  guard  over  poor  Mistress  Seaton  and  the 
rest." 

"  Thou  hast  seen  her  V 

"  Yea,  and  she  was  far  more  our  own  sweet  maid 
,  than  when  she  came  back  to  us  at  Bridgefield." 

And  Humfrey  told  his  father  all  he  had  to  tell  of 
what  he  had  seen  and  heard  since  he  had  been  at 
Chartley.  His  adventures  in  London  had  already  been 
made  known  by  Diccon,      Mr.  Talbot  was  aghast,  per- 


XXIX.]  THE  SEARCH.  389 

haps  most  of  all  at  finding  that  his  cousin  Cuthbert 
was  a  double  traitor.  From  the  Eoman  Catholic  point 
of  view,  there  had  been  no  treason  in  his  former  machi- 
nations on  behalf  of  Mary,  if  she  were  in  his  eyes  his 
rightful  sovereign,  but  the  betrayal  of  confidence  reposed 
in  him  was  so  horrible  that  the  good  Master  Eichard 
refused  to  believe  it,  till  he  had  heard  the  proofs  again 
and  again,  and  then  he  exclaimed, 

"  That  such  a  Judas  should  ever  call  cousin  with 
us  !" 

There  could  be  little  hope,  as  both  agreed,  of  saving 
the  unfortunate  victims  ;  but  Eichard  was  all  the  more 
bent  on  fulfilling  Lord  Shrewsbury's  orders,  and  doing 
his  utmost  for  Babington.  As  to  Humfrey,  it  would 
be  better  that  he  should  remain  where  he  was,  so  that 
Cicely  might  have  some  protector  near  her  in  case  of 
any  sudden  dispersion  of  Mary's  suite. 

"  Poor  maiden  ! "  said  her  foster-father,  "  she  is  in  a 
manner  ours,  and  we  cannot  but  watch  over  her;  but 
after  all,  I  doubt  me  whether  it  had  not  been  better 
for  her  and  for  us,  if  the  waves  had  beaten  the  little 
life  out  of  her  ere  I  carried  her  home." 

"  She  hath  been  the  joy  of  my  life,"  said  Humfrey, 
low  and  hoarsely. 

"  And  I  fear  me  she  will  be  the  sorrow  of  it.  Not 
by  her  fault,  poor  wench,  but  what  hope  canst  thou 
have,  my  son  ?" 

"  None,  sir,"  said  Humfrey,  "  except  of  giving  up  all 
if  I  can  so  defend  her  from  aught."  He  spoke  in  a  quiet 
matter-of-fact  way  that  made  his  father  look  with  some 
inquiry  at  his  gTave  settled  face,  quite  calm,  as  if  saying 
nothing  new,  but  expressing  a  long- formed  quiet  purpose. 

Nor,  though  Humfrey  was  his  eldest  son  and  heir, 
did  Eichard  Talbot  try  to  cross  it. 


390  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

He  asked  whether  he  might  see  Cicely  before  going 
on  to  London,  but  Sir  Aniias  said  that  in  that  case 
slie  would  not  be  allowed  to  return  to  the  Queen,  and 
that  to  have  had  any  intercourse  with  the  prisoners 
might  overthrow  all  his  designs  in  London,  and  he 
therefore  only  left  with  Humfrey  liis  commendations  to 
her,  with  a  pot  of  fresh  honey  and  a  lavender-scented 
set  of  kerchiefs  from  Mistress  Susan. 


XXX.]  TiTE-A-xilTE.  391 


CHAPTER  XXX 

T^TE-A-TETK 

During  that  close  imprisonment  at  Tixall  Cicely 
learnt  to  know  her  mother  both  in  her  strength  and 
weakness.  They  were  quite  alone,  except  that  Sir 
Walter  Ashton  daily  came  to  perform  the  office  of 
taster  and  carver  at  their  meals,  and  on  the  first  even- 
ing his  wife  dragged  herself  upstairs  to  superintend  the 
arrangement  of  their  bedroom,  and  to  supply  them 
with  toilette  requisites  according  to  her  own  very 
limited  notions  and  possessions.  The  Dame  was  a 
very  homely,  hard-featured  lady,  deaf,  and  extremely 
fat  and  heavy,  one  of  the  old  uncultivated  rustic  gentry 
who  had  lagged  far  behind  the  general  civilisation  of 
tlie  country,  and  regarded  all  refinements  as  effeminate 
French  vanities.  She  believed,  likewise,  all  that  was 
said  against  Queen  Mary,  whom  she  looked  on  as 
barely  restrained  from  plunging  a  dagger  into  Elizabeth's 
heart,  and  letting  Parma's  hell-hounds  loose  upon  Tix- 
all. To  have  such  a  guest  imposed  on  her  was  no 
small  grievance,  and  nothing  but  her  husband's  absolute 
mandate  could  have  induced  her  to  come  up  with  the 
m.iids  who  brought  sheets  for  the  bed,  pillows,  and  the 
like  needments.  Mary  tried  to  make  her  requests  as 
moderate  as  necessity  would  permit ;  but  when  they 


392  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOKY.  [CHAP. 

had  been  shouted  into  her  ears  by  one  of  the  maids, 
she  shook  her  head  at  most  of  them,  as  articles  unknown 
to  her.  Nor  did  she  ever  appear  again.  The  arrange- 
ment of  the  bed-chamber  was  performed  by  two  maid- 
servants, the  Knight  himself  meanwhile  standing  a 
grim  sentinel  over  the  two  ladies  in  the  outer  apart- 
ment to  hinder  their  holding  any  communication  through 
the  servants.  All  requests  had  to  be  made  to  him,  and 
on  the  first  morning  Mary  made  a  most  urgent  one 
for  writing  materials,  books,  and  either  needlework  or 
spinning. 

Pen  and  ink  had  been  expressly  forbidden,  the  only 
book  in  the  house  was  a  thumbed  and  torn  primer,  but 
Dame  Joan,  after  much  grumbling  at  iine  ladies'  whims, 
vouchsafed  to  send  up  a  distaff,  some  wool,  a  piece  of 
unbleached  linen,  and  a  skein  of  white  thread. 

Queen  Mary  executed  therewith  an  exquisite  piece 
of  embroidery,  which  having  escaped  Dame  Joan's  first 
impulse  to  burn  it  on  the  spot,  remained  for  many 
years  the  show  and  the  wonder  of  Tixall.  Save  for 
this  employment,  she  said  she  should  have  gone  mad 
in  her  utter  uncertainty  about  her  own  fate,  or  that  of 
those  involved  with  her.  To  ask  questions  of  Ashton 
was  like  asking  them  of  a  post.  He  would  give  her 
no  notion  whether  her  servants  were  at  Chartley  or 
not,  whether  they  were  at  large  or  in  confinement,  far 
less  as  to  who  was  accused  of  the  plot,  and  what  had 
been  discovered.  All  that  could  be  said  for  him  was 
that  his  churlishness  was  passive  and  according  to  his 
ideas  of  duty.  He  was  a  very  reluctant  and  uncom- 
fortable jailer,  but  he  never  insulted,  nor  wilfully  ill- 
used  his  unfortunate  captive. 

Thus  Mary  was  left  to  dwell  on  the  little  she  knew, 
namely,  that  Babington  and  his  fellows  were  arrested 


XXX.]  TETE-A-TETE.  393 

and  that  she  was  supposed  to  be  implicated ;  but  there 
her  knowledge  ceased,  except  that  Humfrey's  warning 
convinced  her  that  Cuthbert  Langston  had  been  at 
least  one  of  the  traitors.  He  had  no  doubt  been  of- 
fended and  disappointed  at  that  meeting  during  the 
hawking  at  Tutbury. 

"  Yet  I  need  scarcely  seek  the  why  or  the  where- 
fore," she  said.  "  I  have  spent  my  life  in  a  world  of 
treachery.  No  sooner  do  I  take  a  step  on  ground  that 
seems  ever  so  firm,  than  it  proves  a  quicksand.  They 
will  swallow  me  at  last." 

Daily — more  than  daily — did  she  and  Cicely  go 
over  together  that  hurried  conversation  on  the  moor, 
and  try  to  guess  whether  Langston  intended  to  hint  at 
Cicely's  real  birth.  He  had  certainly  not  disclosed  her 
secret  as  yet,  or  Paulett  would  never  have  selected  her 
as  sprung  of  a  loyal  house,  but  he  might  guess  at  the 
truth,  and  be  waiting  for  an  opportunity  to  sell  it 
dearly  to  those  who  would  regard  her  as  possessed  of 
dangerous  pretensions. 

And  far  more  anxiously  did  the  Queen  recur  to 
examining  Cicely  on  what  she  had  gathered  from 
Humfrey.  This  was  in  fact  nothing,  for  he  had  been 
on  his  guard  against  either  telling  or  hearing  anything 
inconsistent  with  loyalty  to  the  English  Queen,  and 
thus  had  avoided  conversation  on  these  subjects. 

Nor  did  the  Queen  communicate  much.  Cicely 
never  understood  clearly  what  she  dreaded,  what  she 
expected  to  be  found  among  her  papers,  or  what  had 
been  in  the  packet  thrown  into  the  well.  The  girl  did 
not  dare  to  ask  direct  questions,  and  the  Queen  always 
turned  off  indirect  inquiries,  or  else  assured  her  that  she 
was  still  a  simple  happy  child,  and  that  it  was  better  for 
her  owu  sake  that  she  should  know  nothing,  then  caressed 


394  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

her,  and  fondly  pitied  her  for  not  being  admitted  to  her 
mother's  confidence,  but  said  piteously  that  she  knew 
not  what  the  secrets  of  Queens  and  captives  were,  not 
like  those  of  Mistress  Susan  about  the  goose  to  be 
dressed,  or  the  crimson  hose  to  be  knitted  for  a  surprise 
to  her  good  husband. 

But  Cicely  could  see  that  she  expected  the  worst, 
and  believed  in  a  set  purpose  to  shed  her  blood,  and 
she  spent  much  time  in  devotion,  though  sorely  dis- 
tressed by  the  absence  of  all  those  appliances  which 
her  Church  had  taught  her  to  rest  upon.  And  these 
prayers,  which  often  began  with  floods  of  tears,  so  that 
Cicely  drew  away  into  the  window  with  her  distaff  in 
order  not  to  seem  to  watch  them,  ended  with  rendering 
her  serene  and  calm,  with  a  look  of  high  resignation,  as 
having  offered  herself  as  a  sacrifice  and  martyr  for  her 
Church. 

And  yet  was  it  wholly  as  a  Eoman  Catholic  that 
she  had  been  hated,  intrigued  against,  and  deposed 
in  her  own  kingdom  ?  Was  it  simply  as  a  Eoman 
Catholic  that  she  was,  as  she  said,  the  subject  of  a 
more  cruel  plot  than  that  of  which  she  was  accused  ? 

Mysterious  woman  that  she  was,  she  was  never 
more  mysterious  than  to  her  daughter  in  those  seven- 
teen days  that  they  were  sluit  up  together  !  It  did  not 
so  much  strike  Cicely  at  the  time,  when  she  was  carried 
along  with  all  her  mother's  impulses  and  emotions, 
without  reflecting  on  them,  but  when  in  after  times 
she  thought  over  all  that  then  had  passed,  she  felt 
how  little  she  had  understood. 

They  suffered  a  good  deal  from  the  heat  and  close- 
ness of  the  rooms,  for  Mary  was  like  a  modern 
Englishwoman  in  her  craving  for  free  air,  and  these 
were  the  dog-days.     They  had  contrived  by  the  help 


XXX.]  TETE-A-TETE.  8  Of) 

of  a  diamond  that  the  Queen  carried  about  with  her, 
after  the  fashion  of  the  time,  to  extract  a  pane  or  two 
from  the  lattices  so  ingeniously  that  the  master  of  the 
house  never  found  it  out.  And  as  their  two  apart- 
ments looked  out  different  ways,  they  avoided  the  full 
sunshine,  for  they  had  neither  curtains  nor  blinds  to 
their  windows,  by  moving  from  one  to  the  other ;  but 
still  the  closeness  was  very  oppressive,  and  in  the  heat 
of  the  day,  just  after  dinner,  they  could  do  nothing  but 
lie  on  the  table,  wdiile  the  Queen  told  stories  of  her  old 
life  in  France,  till  sometimes  they  both  went  to  sleep. 
Most  of  her  dainty  needlework  was  done  in  the  long 
light  mornings,  for  she  hardly  slept  at  all  in  the  hot 
nights.  Cis  scarcely  saw  her  in  bed,  for  she  prayed 
long  after  the  maiden  had  fallen  asleep,  and  was  up 
with  the  light  and  embroidering  by  the  window. 

She  only  now  began  to  urge  Cicely  to  believe  as  she 
did,  and  to  join  her  Church,  taking  blame  to  herself  for 
never  having  attempted  it  more  seriously.  She  told  of 
the  oneness  and  the  glory  of  Eoman  Catholicism  as 
she  had  seen  it  in  France,  held  out  its  promises  and 
professions,  and  dwelt  on  the  comfort  of  the  intercession 
of  the  Blessed  Virgin  and  the  Saints ;  assuring  Cicely 
that  there  was  nothing  but  sacrilege,  confusion,  and 
cruelty  on  the  other  side. 

Sometimes  the  maiden  was  much  moved  by  the 
tender  manner  and  persuasive  words,  and  she  really 
had  so  much  affection  and  admiration  for  her  mother  as 
to  be  willing  to  do  all  that  she  wished,  and  to  believe  her 
the  ablest  and  most  clear-sighted  of  human  beings  ;  but 
wiienever  Mary  was  not  actually  talking  to  her,  there 
was  a  curious  swaying  back  of  the  pendulum  in  her  mind 
to  the  conviction  that  what  Master  Eichard  and  Mistress 
Susan  believed  must  be  the  right  thing,  that  led  to 


396  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

trustworthy  goodness.  She  had  an  enthusiastic  love 
for  the  Queen,  but  her  faith  and  trust  were  in  them  and 
in  Humfrey,  and  she  could  see  rehgious  matters  from 
their  point  of  view  better  than  from  that  of  her  mother. 

So,  though  the  Queen  often  felt  herself  carrying  her 
daughter  along,  she  always  found  that  there  had  been 
a  slipping  back  to  the  old  standpoint  every  time  she 
began  again.  She  was  considering  with  some  anxiety 
of  the  young  maiden's  future. 

"  Could  I  but  send  thee  to  my  good  sister,  the 
Duchess  of  Lorraine,  she  would  see  thee  well  and 
royally  married,"  she  said.  "  Then  couldst  thou  be 
known  by  thine  own  name,  and  rank  as  Princess  of  Scot- 
land. If  I  can  only  see  my  Courcelles  again,  she  would 
take  thee  safely  and  prove  all — and  thy  hand  will  be 
precious  to  many.  It  may  yet  bring  back  the  true 
faith  to  England,  when  my  brave  cousin  of  Guise  has 
put  down  the  Bearnese,  and  when  the  poor  stumbling- 
block  here  is  taken  away." 

"  Oh  speak  not  of  that,  dear  madam,  my  mother." 

"  I  must  speak,  child.  I  must  think  how  it  will 
be  with  thee,  so  marvellously  saved,  and  restored  to 
be  my  comfort.  I  must  provide  for  thy  safety  and 
honour.  Happily  the  saints  guarded  me  from  ever 
mentioning  thee  in  my  letters,  so  that  there  is  no  fear 
that  Elizabeth  should  lay  hands  on  thee,  unless 
Langston  should  have  spoken — the  which  can  hardly 
be.  But  if  all  be  broken  up  here,  I  must  find  thee  a 
dwelling  with  my  kindred  worthy  of  thy  birth." 

"  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Talbot  would  take  me  home,"  mur- 
mured Cicely. 

"  Girl !  After  aU  the  training  I  have  bestowed  on 
thee,  is  it  possible  that  thou  wouldst  fain  go  back  to 
make  cheeses  and  brew  small  beer  with  those  Yorkshire 


XXX.]  TETE-A-TETE.  397 

boors,  rather  than  reign  a  princess  ?  I  thought  thy 
heart  was  nobler." 

Cicely  hung  her  head  ashamed.  "  I  was  very 
hapjiy  there,"  she  said  in  excuse. 

"  Happy — ay,  with  the  milkmaid's  bliss.  There 
may  be  fewer  sorrows  in  such  a  life  as  that — ^just  as 
those  comely  kine  of  Ashton's  that  I  see  grazing  in  the 
park  have  fewer  sorrows  than  human  creatures.  But 
what  know  they  of  our  joys,  or  what  know  the 
commonalty  of  the  joy  of  ruling,  calling  brave  men 
one's  own,  riding  before  one's  men  in  the  field,  wielding 
counsels  of  State,  winning  the  love  of  thousands  ? 
Nay,  nay,  I  will  not  believe  it  of  my  child,  unless  'tis 
the  base  Border  blood  that  is  in  her  which  siDeaks." 

Cicely  was  somewhat  overborne  by  being  thus 
accused  of  meanness  of  tastes,  when  she  had  heard 
the  Queen  talk  enviously  of  that  same  homely  life 
which  now  she  despised  so  heartily.  She  faltered  in 
excuse,  "  Methought,  madam,  you  would  be  glad  to 
think  there  was  one  loving  shelter  ever  open  to  me." 

"  Loving  !  Ah  !  I  see  what  it  is,"  said  the  Queen, 
in  a  tone  of  disgust.  "  It  is  the  sailor  loon  that  has 
overthrown  it  all.  A  couple  of  walks  in  the  garden 
with  him,  and  the  silly  maid  is  ready  to  throw  over  all 
nobler  thoughts." 

"  Madam,  he  spoke  no  such  word  to  me." 

"  'Twas  the  infection,  child — only  the  infection." 

"  Madam,  I  pray  you " 

"  Whist,  child.  Thou  wilt  be  a  perilous  bride  for 
any  commoner,  and  let  that  thought,  if  no  other,  keep 
thee  from  lowering  thine  eyes  to  such  as  he.  Were  I 
and  thy  brother  taken  out  of  the  way,  none  would 
stand  between  tljee  and  both  thrones  !  What  would 
English  or  Scots  say  to  find  thee  a  household  Joan, 


398  UNKNOWN  TO  IIISTOEV'.  [CHAP. 

wedded  to  one  of  Drake's  rude  pirate  fellows  ?  I 
tell  tliee  it  would  be  the  worse  for  him.  They  have 
made  it  treason  to  wed  royal  blood  without  Elizabeth's 
consent.  ~No,  no,  for  his  sake,  as  well  as  thine  own, 
thou  must  promise  me  never  thus  to  debase  thy  royal 
lineage." 

"  Mother ;  neitlier  he  nor  I  have  thought  or  spoken 
of  such  a  matter  since  we  knew  how  it  was  with 
me." 

"  And  you  give  me  your  word  ? " 

"  Yea,  madam,"  said  Cicely,  who  had  really  never 
entertained  the  idea  of  marrying  Humfrey,  implicit 
as  was  her  trust  in  him  as  a  brother  and  protector. 

"  That  is  well.  And  so  soon  as  I  am  restored  to 
my  poor  servants,  if  I  ever  am,  I  will  take  measures 
for  sending  the  French  remnant  to  their  own  land ;  nor 
shall  my  Courcelles  quit  thee  till  she  hath  seen  thee 
safe  in  the  keeping  of  Madame  de  Lorraine  or  of  Queen 
Louise,  who  is  herself  a  kinswoman  of  ours,  and,  they 
say,  is  piety  and  gentleness  itself." 

"  As  you  will,  madam,"  said  Cicely,  her  heart  sink- 
ing at  the  thought  of  the  strange  new  world  before  her, 
but  perceiving  that  she  must  not  be  the  means  of 
bringing  Humfrey  into  trouble  and  danger. 

Perhaps  she  felt  this  the  more  from  seeing  how 
acutely  her  mother  suffered  at  times  from  sorrow  for 
those  involved  in  her  disaster.  She  gave  Babington 
and  his  companions,  as  well  as  Nau  and  Curll,  up  for 
lost,  as  the  natural  consequence  of  having  befriended 
her ;  and  she  blamed  herself  remorsefully,  after  the 
long  experience  of  the  fatal  consequences  of  meddling 
in  her  affairs,  for  having  entered  into  correspondence 
with  the  bright  enthusiastic  boy  whom  she  remembered, 
and  having  lured  him  without  doubt  to  his  death. 


XXX.]  t£te-a-tete.  399 

"  Alack !  alack ! "  she  said,  "  and  yet  such  is 
liberty,  that  I  should  forget  all  I  have  gone  through, 
and  do  the  like  again,  if  the  door  seemed  opened  to 
me.  At  least  there  is  this  comfort,  cruel  child,  thy 
little  heart  was  not  set  on  him,  gracious  and  hand- 
some though  he  were — and  thy  mother's  most  devoted 
knight !  Ah  !  poor  youth,  it  wrings  my  soul  to  think 
of  him.  But  at  least  he  is  a  Catholic,  his  soul  will  he 
safe,  and  I  will  have  hundreds  of  masses  sung  for  him. 
Oh  tliat  I  knew  how  it  goes  with  them !  This  torture 
of  silent  suspense  is  the  most  cruel  of  all." 

Mary  paced  the  room  with  impatient  misery,  and 
in  such  a  round  the  weary  hours  dragged  by,  only 
mitigated  by  one  welcome  thunderstorm,  for  seventeen 
days,  whose  summer  length  made  them  seem  the  more 
endless.  Cicely,  who  had  never  before  in  her  life  been 
shut  up  in  the  house  so  many  hours,  was  pale,  listless, 
and  even  fretful  towards  the  Queen,  who  bore  with  her 
petulance  so  tenderly  as  more  than  once  to  make  her 
weep  bitterly  for  very  shame.  After  one  of  these  fits 
of  tears,  Mary  pleaded  earnestly  with  Sir  Walter 
Ashton  for  permission  for  the  maiden  to  take  a  turn  in 
the  garden  every  day,  but  though  the  good  gentleman's 
complexion  bore  testimony  that  he  lived  in  the  fresh 
air,  he  did  not  believe  in  its  efficacy ;  he  said  he  had 
no  orders,  and  could  do  nothing  without  warrant.  But 
that  evening  at  supper,  the  serving-maid  brought  up  a 
large  hrew  of  herbs,  dark  and  nauseous,  which  Dame 
Ashton  had  sent  as  good  for  the  young  lady's 
megrim. 

"Will  you  taste  it,  sir ?"  asked  the  Queen  of  Sir 
Walter,  with  a  revival  of  her  lively  humour. 

"  The  foul  fiend  have  me  if  a  drop-  comes  within 
my  lips,"  muttered  the  knight.     "  I  am  not  bound  to 


400  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

taste  for  a  tirewoman  !"  lie  added,  leaving  it  in  doubt 
whether  his  objection  arose  from  distaste  to  his  lady's 
messes,  or  from  pride ;  and  he  presently  said,  perhaps 
half-ashamed  of  himself,  and  willing  to  cast  the  blame 
on  the  other  side, 

"  It  was  kindly  meant  of  my  good  dame,  and  if  you 
choose  to  Hout  at,  rather  thau  benefit  by  it,  that  is  no 
affair  of  mine." 

He  left  the  potion,  and  Cicely  disposed  of  it  by 
small  instalments  at  the  windows ;  and  a  laugh  over 
the  evident  horror  it  excited  in  the  master,  did  the 
captives  at  least  as  much  good  as  the  camomile, 
centaury,  wormwood,  and  other  ingredients  of  the 
bo^vd. 

Happily  it  was  only  two  days  later  that  Sir  Walter 
announced  that  his  custody  of  the  (^ueen  was  over, 
and  Sir  Amias  Paulett  was  come  for  her.  There  was 
little  preparation  to  make,  for  the  two  ladies  had  worn 
their  riding-dresses  all  the  time ;  but  on  reaching  the 
great  door,  where  Sir  Amias,  attended  by  Humfrey,  was 
awaiting  them,  they  were  astonished  to  see  a  whole 
troop  on  horseback,  all  armed  with  bead-pieces,  swords 
and  pistols,  to  the  number  of  a  hundred  and  forty. 

"Wherefore  is  this  little  army  raised?"  she  asked. 

"  It  is  by  order  of  the  Queen,"  replied  Ashton,  with 
Ids  accustomed  surly  manner,  "  and  need  enough  in 
the  time  of  such  treasons !" 

The  Queen  turned  to  him  with  tears  on  her  cheeks. 
"  Good  gentlemen,"  she  said,  "  I  am  not  witting  of 
anything  against  the  Queen.  Am  I  to  be  taken  to  the 
Tower  V 

"  No,  madam,  back  to  Chartley,"  replied  Sir  Amias. 

"  I  knew  they  would  never  let  me  see  my  cousin," 
sighed  the  Queen.     "  Sir,"  as  Paulett  placed  her  on 


XXX.]  t^te-a-t]£te.  401 

her  horso,  "  of  your  pity  tell  me  whether  I  shall  find 
all  my  poor  servants  there," 

"  Yea,  madam,  save  Mr.  Nau  and  Mr.  Ciirll,  who 
are  answering  for  themselves  and  for  you.  Moreover, 
Curll's  wife  was  delivered  two  days  since." 

This  intelligence  filled  Mary  with  more  anxiety 
than  she  chose  to  manifest  to  her  unsympathising 
surroundings ;  Cis  meanwhile  had  been  assisted  to 
mount  by  Humfrey,  who  told  her  that  Mrs.  Curll  was 
thought  to  be  doing  well,  but  that  there  were  fears  for 
the  babe.  It  was  impossible  to  exchange  many  words, 
for  they  were  immediately  behind  the  Queen  and  her 
two  warders,  and  Humfrey  could  only  tell  her  that  his 
father  had  been  at  Chartley,  and  had  gone  on  to  London  ; 
but  there  was  inexpressible  relief  in  hearing  the  sound 
of  his  voice,  and  knowing  she  had  some  one  to  think  for 
her  and  protect  her.  The  promise  she  had  made  to  the 
Queen  only  seemed  to  make  him  more  entirely  her 
brother  by  putting  that  other  love  out  of  the  question. 

There  was  a  sad  sight  at  the  gate, — a  whole  multitude 
of  wretched-looking  beggars,  and  poor  of  all  ages  and 
degrees  of  misery,  who  all  held  out  their  hands  and 
raised  one  cry  of  "Alms,  alms,  gracious  Lady,  alms,  for 
the  love  of  heaven  !" 

Mary  looked  round  on  them  with  tearful  eyes,  and 
exclaimed,  "  Alack,  good  folk,  I  have  nothing  to  give 
you  !     I  am  as  much  a  beggar  as  yourselves !" 

The  escort  dispersed  them  roughly,  Paulett  assuring 
her  that  they  were  nothing  but  "  a  sort  of  idle  folk," 
viio  were  only  encouraged  in  laziness  by  her  bounty, 
which  was  very  possibly  true  of  a  certain  proportion 
of  them,  but  it  had  been  a  sore  grief  to  her  that  since 
Cuthbert  Langston's  last  approach  in  disguise  she  had 
been  prevented  from  giving  alms. 

2  D 


402  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CEAP. 

In  due  time  Cliartley  was  reached,  and  the  first 
thing  the  Queen  did  on  dismounting  was  to  hurry  to 
visit  poor  Barbara  Curll,  who  had — on  her  increasiug 
ilhiess — been  removed  to  one  of  the  guest-chambers, 
■where  the  Queen  now  found  her,  still  in  much  distress 
about  her  husband,  who  was  in  close  imprisonment  in 
Walsingham's  house,  and  had  not  been  allowed  to  send 
her  any  kind  of  message ;  and  in  still  more  immediate 
anxiety  about  her  new-born  infant,  who  did  not  look 
at  all  as  if  its  little  life  would  last  many  hours. 

She  lifted  up  her  languid  eyelids,  and  scarcely  smiled 
when  the  Queen  declared,  "  See,  Barbara,  I  am  come 
back  again  to  you,  to  nurse  you  and  my  god-daughter 
into  health  to  receive  your  husband  again.  Nay,  have 
no  fears  for  him.  They  cannot  hiu't  him.  He  has 
done  nothing,  and  is  a  Scottish  subject  beside.  My 
son  shall  write  to  claim  him,"  she  declared  with  such 
an  assumed  air  of  confidence  that  a  shade  of  hope 
crossed  the  pale  face,  and  the  fear  for  her  child  became 
the  more  pressing  of  the  two  griefs. 

"  We  will  christen  her  at  once,"  said  Mary,  turning 
to  the  nearest  attendant.  "  Bear  a  request  from  me  to 
Sir  Amias  that  his  chaplain  may  come  at  once  and 
baptize  my  god-child." 

Sir  Amias  was  waiting  in  the  gallery  in  very  ill- 
humour  at  the  Queen's  delay,  which  kept  his  supper 
waiting.  Moreover,  his  party  had  a  strong  dislike  to 
pri\ate  baptism,  holding  that  the  important  point  was 
the  public  covenant  made  by  responsible  persons,  and 
the  notion  of  the  sponsorship  of  a  Eoman  Catholic 
likewise  shocked  him.  So  he  made  ungracious  answer 
that  he  would  have  no  baptism  save  in  church  before 
the  congregation,  with  true  Protestant  gossips. 

"  So  saith  he  ?"  exclaimed  Mary,  when  the  reply 


XXX.]  TEfE-A-TETE.  403 

was  reported  to  lier.  "Nay,  my  poor  little  one,  thou 
slialt  not  be  shut  out  of  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  for  his 
churlishness."  And  taking  the  infant  on  her  knee,  she 
dipped  her  hand  in  the  bowl  of  water  that  had  been 
prepared  for  the  chaplain,  and  baptized  it  by  her  own 
name  of  Mary. 

The  existing  Prayer-book  had  been  made  expressly 
to  forbid  lay  baptism  and  baptism  by  women,  at  the 
special  desire  of  the  reformers,  and  Sir  Amias  was 
proportionately  horrified,  and  told  her  it  was  an  offence 
for  the  Archbishop's  court. 

"  Very  like,"  said  Mary.  "  Your  Protestant  courts 
love  to  slay  both  body  and  soul.  Will  it  please  you 
to  open  my  own  chambers  to  me,  sir  ? " 

Sir  Amias  handed  the  key  to  one  of  her  servants, 
but  she  motioned  him  aside. 

"  Those  who  put  me  forth  must  admit  me,"  she 
said. 

The  door  was  opened  by  one  of  the  gentlemen  of 
the  household,  and  they  entered.  Every  repository  had 
been  ransacked,  every  cabinet  stood  open  and  empty, 
every  drawer  had  been  pulled  out.  Wearing  apparel 
and  the  like  remained,  but  even  this  showed  signs  of 
having  been  tossed  over  and  roughly  rearranged  by 
masculine  fingers. 

Mary  stood  in  the  midst  of  the  room,  which  had 
a  strange  air  of  desolation,  an  angry  light  in  her  eyes, 
and  her  hands  clasped  tightly  one  into  the  other. 
Paulett  attempted  some  expression  of  regret  for  the 
disarray,  pleading  his  orders. 

"  It  needs  not  excuse,  sir,"  said  Mary,  "  I  understand 
to  whom  I  owe  this  insult.  There  are  two  things  that 
your  Queen  can  never  take  from  me — royal  blood  and 
the  Catholic  faith.      One  day  some  of  you  will  be  sorry  . 


404  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

for  what  you  have  now  put  upon  me  !  I  would  be 
alone,  sir,"  and  she  proudly  motioned  him  to  the  door, 
with  a  haughty  gesture,  showing  her  still  fully  Queen 
in  her  own  apartments.  Paulett  obeyed,  and  when  he 
was  gone,  the  Queen  seemed  to  abandon  the  command 
over  herself  she  had  preserved  all  this  time.  She 
threw  herself  into  Jean  Kennedy's  arms,  and  wept 
freely  and  piteously,  while  the  good  lady,  rejoicing  at 
heart  to  have  recovered  "  her  bairn,"  fondled  and 
soothed  her  with  soft  Scottish  epithets,  as  though  the 
worn  woman  had  been  a  child  again.  "  Yea,  nurse, 
mine  own  nurse,  I  am  come  back  to  thee;  for  a  little 
while — only  a  little  while,  nurse,  for  they  will  have 
my  blood,  and  oh  !  I  woiild  it  were  ended,  for  I  am 
aweary  of  it  all." 

Jean  and  Elizabeth  Curll  tried  to  cheer  and  console 
her,  alarmed  at  this  unwonted  depression,  but  she  only 
said,  "  Get  me  to  bed,  nurse,  I  am  sair  forfaugliten." 

She  was  altogether  broken  down  by  the  long 
suspense,  the  hardships  and  the  imprisonment  she  had 
undergone,  and  she  kept  her  bed  for  several  days, 
hardly  speaking,  but  apparently  reposing  in  the  relief 
afforded  l)y  the  recovered  care  and  companionship  of 
her  much-loved  attendants. 

There  she  was  when  Paulett  came  to  demand  the 
keys  of  the  caskets  where  her  treasure  was  kept. 
Melville  had  refused  to  yield  them,  and  all  the  Queen 
said  was,  "  Eobbery  is  to  be  added  to  the  rest,"  a 
sentence  which  greatly  stung  the  knight,  but  he  actu- 
ally seized  all  the  coin  that  he  found,  including  what 
belonged  to  Nau  and  Curll,  and,  only  retaining  enough 
for  present  expenses,  sent  the  rest  off  to  London. 


XXXI.]  EVIDENCE.  405 


CHAPTER    XXXI. 

EVIDENCE. 

In  the  meantime  the  two  Eichard  Talbots,  father 
and  son,  had  safely  arrived  in  London,  and  had  been 
made  welcome  at  the  house  of  their  noble  kinsman. 

Nau  and  Curll,  they  heard,  were  in  Walsingham's 
house,  subjected  to  close  examination ;  Babington  and 
all  his  comrades  were  in  the  Tower.  The  Council  was 
continually  sitting  to  deliberate  over  the  fate  of  the  latter 
unhappy  men,  of  whose  guilt  there  was  no  doubt ;  and 
neither  Lord  Talbot  nor  Will  Cavendish  thought  there 
was  any  possibility  of  Master  Eichard  gaining  permis- 
sion to  plead  how  the  unfortunate  Babington  had  been 
worked  on  and  deceived.  After  the  sentence  should 
be  pronounced.  Cavendish  thought  that  the  request  of 
the  Earl  of  Shrewsbury  might  prevail  to  obtain  per- 
m.ission  for  an  interview  between  the  prisoner  and 
one  commissioned  by  his  former  guardian.  Will  was 
daily  attending  Sir  Francis  Walsingham  as  his  clerk, 
and  was  not  by  any  means  unwilling  to  relate  anything 
he  had  been  able  to  learn. 

Queen  Elizabeth  was,  it  seemed,  grectUy  agitated 
and  distressed.  The  shock  to  her  nerves  on  the  day 
when  she  had  so  bravely  overawed  Barnwell  witli  the 
power  of  her  eye  had   been  such   as  not  to  be  easily 


406  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [cHAP. 

surmounted.  She  was  restless  and  full  of  anxiety, 
continually  starting  at  every  sound,  and  beginning 
letters  to  the  Queen  of  Scots  which  were  never  finished. 
She  had  more  than  once  inquired  after  the  brave  sailor 
youths  who  had  come  so  opportunely  to  her  rescue  ; 
and  Lord  Talbot  thought  it  would  be  well  to  present 
Diccon  and  his  father  to  her,  and  accordingly  took 
them  with  liim  to  Greenwich  Palace,  where  they  had 
the  benefit  of  looking  on  as  loyal  subjects,  while  her 
Majesty,  in  royal  fashion,  dined  in  public,  to  the  sound 
of  drums,  trumpets,  fifes,  and  stringed  instruments. 
But  though  dressed  with  her  usual  elaborate  care,  she 
looked  older,  paler,  thinner,  and  more  haggard  than 
when  Diccon  had  seen  her  three  weeks  previously,  and 
neither  her  eye  nor  mouth  had  the  same  steadiness. 
She  did  not  eat  with  relish,  but  almost  as  if  she  were 
forcing  herself,  lest  any  lack  of  appetite  might  be  ob- 
served and  commented  upon,  and  her  looks  continually 
wandered  as  though  in  search  of  some  lurking  enemy ; 
for  in  truth  no  woman,  nor  man  either,  could  easily 
forget  the  suggestion  which  had  recently  been  brought 
to  her  knowledge,  that  an  assassin  might  "  lurk  in  her 
gallery  and  stab  her  with  his  dagger,  or  if  she  should 
walk  in  her  garden,  he  might  shoot  her  with  his  dagg- 
er if  she  should  walk  abroad  to  take  the  air,  he  might 
assault  her  with  his  arming  sword  and  make  sure 
work."  Even  though  the  enemies  were  safe  in  prison, 
she  knew  not  but  that  dagger,  dagg,  or  arming  sword 
might  still  be  ready  for  her,  and  she  believed  that  any 
fatal  charge  openly  made  against  Mary  at  the  trial  might 
drive  her  friends  to  desperation  and  lead  to  the  use  of 
dagg  or  dagger.  She  was  more  unhinged  than  ever 
before,  and  commanded  herself  with  ditficulty  when 
going  through  all  the  scenes  of  her  public  life  as  usual. 


XXXI.]  EVIDENCE.  40  7 

The  Talbots  soon  felt  her  keen  eye  on  them,  and 
a  look  of  recognition  passed  OA'er  her  face  as  she  saw 
Diccou.  As  soon  as  the  meal  was  over,  and  the  table 
of  trestles  removed,  she  sent  a  page  to  command  Lord 
Talbot  to  present  them  to  her. 

"  So,  sir,"  she  said,  as  Eichard  the  elder  knelt  before 
her,  "  you  are  the  father  of  two  brave  sons,  whom  you 
have  bred  up  to  do  good  service ;  but  I  only  see  one 
of  them  here.      Where  is  the  elder  ?" 

"  So  please  your  Majesty,  Sir  Amias  Paulett  desired 
to  retain  him  at  Chartley  to  assist  in  guarding  the 
Queen  of  Scots." 

"  It  is  well.  Paulett  knows  a  trusty  lad  when  he 
sees  him.  And  so  do  I.  I  would  have  the  youths 
both  for  my  gentlemen  pensioners  —  the  elder  wdien  he 
can  be  spared  from  his  charge,  this  stripling  at  once." 

"  We  are  much  beholden  to  your  Majesty,"  said 
Eichard,  bending  his  head  the  lower  as  he  knelt  on  one 
knee ;  for  such  an  appointment  gave  both  training  and 
recommendation  to  young  country  gentlemen,  and  was 
much  sought  after. 

"  Methinks,"  said  Elizabeth,  who  had  the  royal 
faculty  of  remembering  faces,  "  you  have  yourself  so 
served  us,  Mr.  Talbot  ?" 

"  I  was  for  three  years  in  the  band  of  your  Ma- 
jesty's sister,  Queen  Mary,"  said  Eichard,  "  but  I 
quitted  it  on  her  death  to  serve  at  sea,  and  I  have 
since  been  in  charge  at  Sheffield,  under  my  Lord  of 
Shrewsbury." 

"  We  have  heard  that  he  hath  found  you  a  faithful 
servant,"  said  the  Queen,  "  yea,  so  well  affected  as 
even  to  have  refused  your  daughter  in  marriage  to  this 
same  Babington.     Is  this  true  ? " 

"  It  is,  so  please  your  Majesty." 


408  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOKY.  [CHAR 

"Aud  it  was  because  you  already  perceived  his 
villainy  ?" 

"There  were  many  causes,  Lladam,"  said  Eichard, 
catching  at  the  chance  of  saying  a  word  for  the  un- 
happy lad,  "  but  it  was  not  so  much  villainy  that  I 
perceived  in  him  as  a  nature  that  might  be  easily 
practised  upon  by  worse  men  than  himself." 

"  N'ot  so  much  a  villain  ready  made  as  the  stuff 
villains  are  made  of,"  said  the  Queen,  satisfied  with  her 
own  repartee. 

"  So  please  your  Majesty,  the  metal  that  in  good 
hands  becomes  a  brave  sword,  in  evil  ones  becomes  a 
treacherous  dagger." 

"Well  said.  Master  Captain,  and  therefore  we  must 
destroy  alike  the  dagger  aud  the  hands  that  perverted 
it." 

"  Yet,"  ventured  Eichard,  "  the  dagger  attempered 
by  your  Majesty's  clemency  might  yet  do  noble  ser- 
vice." 

Elizabeth,  however,  broke  out  fiercely  with  one  of 
her  wonted  oaths. 

"  How  now  ?  Thou  wouldst  not  plead  for  Lhe 
rascal !  I  would  have  you  to  know  that  to  crave 
pardon  for  such  a  fellow  is  well-nigh  treason  in  iUelf. 
You  have  license  to  leave  us,  sir." 

"  I  should  scarce  have  brought  you,  Eichard,"  said 
Lord  Talbot,  as  soon  as  they  had  left  the  presence 
chamber,  "  had  I  known  you  would  venture  on  such 
folly.  Know  you  not  how  incensed  she  is  ?  Naught 
but  your  proved  loyalty  and  my  father's  could  have 
borne  you  off  this  time,  and  it  would  be  small  marvel 
to  me  if  the  lad's  appomtment  were  forgotten." 

"  I  could  not  choose  but  run  the  risk,"  said  Eichard. 
^What  else  came  I  to  Londoji  for  ?" 


XXXI  j  EVIDENCE.  409 

"  Well,"  said  his  cousin,  "  you  are  a  brave  man, 
Richard  Talbot.  I  know  those  who  had  rather  scale  a 
Spanish  fortress  than  face  Queen  Elizabeth  in  her 
wratk  Her  tongue  is  sharper  than  even  my  step- 
dame's,  though  it  doth  not  run  on  so  long." 

Lord  Talbot  was  not  quite  easy  when  that  evening 
a  gentleman,  clad  in  rich  scarlet  and  gold,  and  armed 
to  the  teeth,  presented  himself  at  Shrewsbury  House 
and  inquired  for  Mr.  Talbot  of  Bridgefield.  However, 
it  proved  to  be  the  officer  of  the  troop  of  gentlemen 
pensioners  come  to  enroll  Diccon,  tell  him  the  require- 
ments, and  arrange  when  he  should  join  in  a  capacity 
something  like  that  of  an  esquire  to  one  of  the  seniors 
of  the  troop.  Humfrey  was  likewise  inquired  for,  but 
it  was  thought  better  on  all  accounts  that  he  should 
continue  in  his  present  situation,  since  it  was  especially 
needful  to  have  trustworthy  persons  at  Chartley  in  the 
existing  crisis.  Master  Eichard  was  well  satisfied  to 
find  that  his  son's  immediate  superior  would  be  a 
gentleman  of  a  good  Yorkshire  family,  whose  father 
was  known  to  him,  and  who  promised  to  have  a  care 
of  Master  Richard  the  younger,  and  preserve  him,  as 
far  as  possible,  from  the  perils  of  dicing,  drinking,  and 
running  into  bad  company. 

Launching  a  son  in  this  manner  and  equipping  him 
for  service  was  an  anxious  task  for  a  father,  while  day 
after  day  the  trial  was  deferred,  the  examinations  being 
secretly  carried  on  before  the  Council  till,  as  Cavendish 
explained,  what  was  important  should  be  disclosed. 

Of  course  this  implied  what  should  be  fatal  to 
Queen  Mary.  The  priest  Ballard  was  racked,  but  he 
was  a  man  of  great  determination,  and  nothing  was 
elicited  from  him.  The  other  prisoners,  and  Nau  and 
Curll,  were  questioned   again  and  again  under  threats 


410  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOItY.  [cilAP. 

and  promises  before  the  Council,  and  tie  letters  that 
had  been  copied  on  theil"  transit  through  the  beer  barrels 
were  read  and  made  the  subject  of  cross-examination — 
still  all  in  private,  for,  as  Cavendish  said,  "  perilous  stuff 
to  the  Queen's-  Majesty  might  come  out." 

He  allowed,  however,  day  after  day,  that  though 
there  was  quite  enough  to  be  fatal  to  Ballard,  Babiug- 
ton,  Savage,  and  Barnwell,  whatever  else  was  wanting 
was  not  forthcoming.  At  last,  however,  Cavendish 
returned  full  of  a  certain  exultation :  "  We  have  it," 
he  said, — "  a  most  undoubted  treasonable  letter,  which 
will  catch  her  between  the  shoulders  and  the  head." 

He  spoke  to  Lord  Talbot  and  Kichard,  who  were 
standing  togetlier  in  a  window,  and  who  knew  only  too 
well  who  was  referred  to,  and  what  the  expression 
signified.  On  a  further  query  from  his  step-brother, 
Cavendish  explained  that  it  was  a  long  letter,  dated 
July  1 5,  arranging  in  detail  the  plan  for  "  the  Lady's  " 
own  rescue  from  Chartley  at  the  moment  of  the  landing 
of  the  Spaniards,  and  likewise  showing  her  privy  to 
the  design  of  the  six  gentlemen  against  the  life  of  the 
Queen,  and  desiring  to  know  their  names.  Nau  had, 
he  said,  verified  the  cipher  as  one  used  in  the  coitc- 
spondence,  and  Babington,  when  it  was  shown  to  him, 
had  declared  that  it  had  been  given  to  him  in  the 
street  by  a  stranger  serving-man  in  a  blue  coat,  and 
that  it  had  removed  all  doubt  from  his  mind,  as  it  was 
an  answer  to  a  letter  of  his,  a  copy  of  which  had  been 
produced,  but  not  the  letter  itself. 

"  Which  we  have  not  found,"  said  Cavendish. 

"  Not  for  all  that  search  of  yours  at  Chartley  ?"  said 
Iiichard.     "  Methought  it  was  thorough  enough  ! " 

"  The  Lady  must  have  been  marvellously  prudent  as 
to  the  keeping  of  letters,"  said  Will,  "  or  else  she  must 


XXXI.]  EVIDENCE.  411 

have  received  some  warniug  ;  for  there  is  absolutely 
naught  to  be  found  in  her  repositories  that  will  serve 
oiu'  purpose." 

"  Our  purpose  !"  repeated  Eichard,  as  he  recollected 
many  little  kindnesses  that  William  Cavendish  when  a 
boy  had  received  from  the  prisoner  at  Sheffield. 

"  Yea,  Master  Eichard,"  he  returned,  unabashed. 
"  It  is  absolutely  needful  that  we  should  openly  prove 
this  woman  to  be  what  we  know  her  to  be  in  secret. 
Her  Majesty's  life  will  never  be  safe  for  a  moment 
while  she  lives ;  and  what  would  become  of  us  all  did 
she  overlive  the  Queen  ! " 

"  Well,  Will,  for  all  your  mighty  word  ice,  you  are 
but  the  pen  in  Mr.  Secretary's  hand,  so  there  is  no 
need  to  argue  the  matter  with  you,"  said  Eichard. 

The  speech  considerably  nettled  Master  WiUiam, 
especially  as  it  made  Lord  Talbot  laugh. 

"  Father  !"  said  Diccon  afterwards,  "  Humfrey  tried 
to  warn  Mr.  Babington  that  we  liad  seen  this  Lang- 
ston,  who  hath  as  many  metamorjihoses  as  there  be  in 
Ovidius  Naso,  coming  privily  forth  from  Sir  Francis 
Walsingham's  closet,  but  he  would  not  listen,  and 
declared  that  Langston  was  holding  Mr.  Secretary  in 
play." 

"  Deceiving  and  being  deceived,"  sighed  his  father. 
"  That  is  ever  the  way,  my  son  !  Eem ember  that  if 
thou  playest  false,  other  men  will  play  falser  with  thee 
and  bring  thee  to  thy  ruin.  I  would  not  leave  thee 
here  save  that  the  gentlemen  pensioners  are  a  more 
honest  and  manly  sort  of  folk  than  yonder  gentlemen 
with  their  state  craft,  wherein  they  throw  over  all  truth 
and  honour  as  well  as  mercy." 

This  couversation  took  place  as  the  father  and  son 
were  making  their  way  to  a   house  in  Westminster, 


412  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP 

where  Antony  Babington's  wife  was  with  her  mother, 
Lady  Eatcliffe.  It  had  been  a  match  made  by  Lady 
Shrewsbury,  and  it  was  part  of  Eichard's  commission 
to  see  and  confer  with  the  family.  It  was  not  a  satis- 
factory interview.  The  wife  was  a  duU  childish  little 
thing,  not  yet  sixteen ;  and  though  she  cried,  she  had 
plainly  never  lived  in  any  real  sympathy  or  companion- 
ship with  her  husband,  who  had  left  her  with  hei 
parents,  while  leading  the  life  of  mingled  amusement 
and  intrigue  which  had  brought  him  to  his  present 
state  ;  and  the  mother,  a  hard-featured  woman,  evidently 
thought  herself  cheated  and  ill  used.  She  railed  at 
Babington  and  at  my  Lady  Countess  by  turns ;  at  the 
one  for  his  ruinous  courses  and  neglect  of  her  daughter, 
at  the  other  for  having  cozened  her  into  giving  her  poor 
child  to  a  treacherous  Papist,  who  would  be  attainted  in 
blood,  and  thus  bring  her  poor  daughter  and  grandchild 
to  poverty.  The  old  lady  really  seemed  to  have  lost  all 
pity  for  her  son-in-law  in  indignation  on  her  daughter's 
account,  and  to  care  infinitely  less  for  the  saving  of  his 
life  than  for  the  saving  of  his  estate.  Nor  did  the 
young  wife  herself  appear  to  possess  much  real  affection 
for  poor  Antony,  of  whom  she  had  seen  very  little. 
There  must  have  been  great  faults  on  his  side ;  yet 
certainly  Eichard  felt  that  there  was  some  excuse  for 
him  in  the  mother-in-law,  and  that  if  the  unfortunate 
young  man  could  have  married  Cicely  his  lot  might 
have  been  different.  Yet  the  good  Captain  felt  all 
the  more  that  if  Cis  had  been  his  own  he  still  would 
never  have  given  her  to  Babington. 


XXXIL]  WESTMINSTEU  IIAJJa,  413 


CHAPTER   XXXn. 

WESTMINSTER  HALL. 

Beneath  the  noble  roof  of  Westminster  Hall,  with  the 
morning  sun  streaming  in  high  aloft,  at  seven  in  the 
morning  of  the  1 4th  of  September,  the  Court  met  for  the 
trial  of  Antony  Babington  and  his  confederates.  The 
Talbot  name  and  recommendation  obtained  ready  ad- 
mission, and  Lord  Talbot,  Eichard,  and  his  son  formed 
one  small  party  together  with  William  Cavendish,  who 
had  his  tablets,  on  which  to  take  notes  for  the  use  of 
his  superior,  Walsingham,  who  was,  however,  one  of  the 
Commissioners. 

There  they  sat,  those  supreme  judges,  the  three 
Chief-Justices  in  their  scarlet  robes  of  office  forming 
the  centre  of  the  group,  which  also  numbered  Lords 
Cobhani  and  Buckhurst,  Sir  Francis  KnoUys,  Sir 
Cliristopher  Hatton,  and  most  of  the  chief  law  officers 
of  the  Crown. 

"  Is  Mr.  Secretary  Walsingham  one  of  the  judges 
here  ?"  asked  Diccon.  "  Methought  he  had  been  in 
the  place  of  the  accuser." 

"  Peace,  boy,  and  listen,"  said  his  father  ;  "  these 
things  pass  my  comprehension." 

Nevertheless  Richard  had  determined  that  if  the 
course  of  the  trial  should  offer  the  least  opportunity, 


414  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

he  would  come  forward  and  plead  his  former  knowledge 
of  young  Babington  as  a  rash  and  weak-headed  youth, 
easily  played  upon  by  designing  p(;rsons,  but  likely  to 
take  to  heart  such  a  lesson  as  this,  and  become  a  true 
and  loyal  subject.  If  he  could  obtain  any  sort  of  miti- 
gation for  the  poor  youth,  it  would  be  worth  the  risk. 

The  seven  conspirators  were  brought  in,  and  Eichard 
could  hardly  keep  a  rush  of  tears  from  his  eyes  at  the 
sight  of  those  fine,  high-spirited  young  men,  especially 
Antony  Babington,  the  playfellow  of  his  own  children. 

Antony  was  carefully  dressed  in  his  favourite  col- 
our, dark  green,  his  hair  and  beard  trimmed,  and  his 
demeanour  calm  and  resigned.  The  fire  was  gone 
from  his  blue  eye,  and  his  bright  complexion  had 
faded,  but  there  was  an  air  of  dignity  about  him  such  as 
he  had  never  worn  before.  His  eyes,  as  he  took  his 
place,  wandered  round  the  vast  assembly,  and  rested 
at  length  on  Mr.  Talbot,  as  though  deriving  encourage- 
ment and  support  from  the  look  that  met  his.  Next 
to  him  was  another  young  man  with  the  same  look  of 
birth  and  breeding,  namely  Chidiock  Tichborne ;  but 
John  Savage,  an  older  man,  had  the  reckless  beariDg 
of  the  brutalised  soldiery  of  the  Netherlandish  wars. 
Robert  Barnwell,  with  his  red,  shaggy  brows  and  Irish 
physiognomy,  was  at  once  recognised  by  Diccon.  Donne 
and  Salisbury  followed ;  and  the  seventh  conspirator, 
John  Ballard,  was  carried  in  a  chair.  Even  Diccon's 
quick  eye  could  hardly  have  detected  the  ruffling,  swag- 
gering, richly-clad  Captain  Fortescue  in  this  tonsured 
man  in  priestly  garb,  deadly  pale,  and  unable  to  stand, 
from  tlie  effects  of  torture,  yet  with  undaunted,  penetrat- 
ing eyes,  all  unsubdued. 

After  the  proclamation,  Oyez,  Oyez,  and  the  com- 
mand to  keep  silence,  Sandys,  the  Clerk  of  the  Crown, 


XXXII.]  WESTMINSTER  HALL.  415 

began  the  proceedings.  "  John  Balhard,  Antony  Bab- 
ington,  John  Savage,  Eobert  Barnwell,  Chidiock  Tich- 
borne,  Henry  Donne,  Thomas  Salisbury,  hold  up  your 
hands  and  answer."  The  indictment  was  then  read 
at  great  length,  charging  them  with  conspiring  to  slay 
the  Queen,  to  deliver  Mary,  Queen  of  Scots,  from 
custody,  to  stir  up  rebellion,  to  bring  the  Spaniards 
to  invade  England,  and  to  change  the  religion  of  the 
country.  The  question  was  first  put  to  Ballard,  Was 
he  guilty  of  these  treasons  or  not  guilty  ? 

Ballard's  reply  was,  "  That  I  procure  .1  the  delivery 
of  the  Queen  of  Scots,  I  am  guilty ;  and  that  I  went 
about  to  alter  the  religion,  I  am  guilty ;  but  that  I 
intended  to  slay  her  Majesty,  I  am  not  guilty." 

"  Not  with  his  own  hand,"  muttered  Cavendish, 
"  but  for  the  rest " 

"Pity  that  what  is  so  bravely  spoken  should  be 
false,"  thought  Eichard,  "yet  it  may  be  to  leave  the 
way  open  to  defence." 

Sandys,  however,  insisted  that  he  must  plead  to  the 
whole  indictment,  and  Anderson,  the  Chief-Justice  of 
Common  Pleas,  declared  that  he  must  deny  the  whole 
generally,  or  confess  it  generally  ;  while  Hatton  put  in, 
"  Ballard,  under  thine  own  hand  are  all  things  confessed, 
therefore  now  it  is  much  vanity  to  stand  vaingloriously 
in  denying  it." 

"  Then,  sir,  I  confess  I  am  guilty,"  he  said,  with 
great  calmness,  though  it  was  the  resignation  of  all 
hope. 

The  same  question  was  then  put  to  Babington. 
He,  with  "  a  mild  countenance,  sober  gesture,"  and  all 
his  natural  grace,  stood  up  and  spoke,  saying  "  that  the 
time  for  concealment  was  past,  and  that  he  was  ready 
to  avow  how  from  his  earliest  infancy  he  had  believed 


416  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

England  to  have  fallen  from  the  true  religion,  and  had 
trusted  to  see  it  restored  thereto.  Moreover,  he  had 
ever  a  deep  love  and  compassion  for  the  Queen  of 
Scots.  Some,"  he  said,  "  who  are  yet  at  large,  and 
who  are  yet  as  deep  in  the  matter  as  I " 

"  Gifford,  Morgan,  and  another,"  whispered  Caven- 
dish significantly. 

"  Have  they  escaped  ?"  asked  Diccon. 

"  So  'tis  said." 

"  The  decoy  ducks,"  thought  Eichard. 

Babington  was  explaining  that  these  men  had 
proposed  to  him  a  great  enterprise  for  the  rescue  and 
restoration  of  the  Queen  of  Scots,  and  the  re-establish- 
ment of  the  Catholic  religion  in  England  by  the  sword 
of  the  Prince  of  Parma.  A  body  of  gentlemen  were  to 
attack  Chartley,  free  Mary,  and  proclaim  her  Queen, 
and  at  the  same  time  Queen  Elizabeth  was  to  be  put 
to  death  by  some  speedy  and  skilful  method. 

"  My  Lords,"  he  said, "  I  swear  that  all  that  was  in 
me  cried  out  against  the  wickedness  of  thus  privily 
slaying  her  Majesty." 

Some  muttered,  "  The  villain  !  he  lies,"  but  the 
kindly  Piichard  sighed  inaudibly,  "  True,  poor  lad  ! 
Thou  must  have  given  th}''  conscience  over  to  strange 
keepers  to  be  thus  led  astray." 

And  Babington  went  on  to  say  that  they  had 
brought  this  gentleman,  Father  Ballard,  who  had 
wrought  with  him  to  prove  that  his  scruples  were 
weak,  carnal,  and  ungodly,  and  that  it  v»^ould  be  a 
meritorious  deed  in  the  sight  of  Heaven  thus  to  remove 
the  heretic  usurper. 

Here  the  judges  sternly  bade  him  not  to  blaspheme, 
and  he  replied,  with  that  "  soberness  and  good  grace  " 
which  seems  to  have  struck  all  the  beholders,  that  ho 


XXXII.]  WESTiMINSTEK  HALL.  417 

craved  patience  and  pardon,  meaning  only  to  ex- 
plain how  he  had  been  led  to  the  madness  which  he 
now  repented,  understanding  himself  to  have  been  in 
gTievous  error,  though  not  for  the  sake  of  any  temporal 
reward ;  but  being  blinded  to  the  guile,  and  assured  that 
the  deed  was  both  lawful  and  meritorious.  He  tlius 
had  been  brought  to  destruction  through  the  persuasions 
of  this  Ballard. 

"  A  very  fit  author  for  so  bad  a  fact,"  responded 
Hatton. 

"  Very  true,  sir,"  said  Babington  ;  "  for  from  so  bad 
a  ground  never  proceed  any  better  fruits.  He  it  was 
who  persuaded  me  to  kill  the  Queen,  and  to  commit 
tlie  other  treasons,  whereof  I  confess  myself  guilty." 

Savage  pleaded  guilty  at  once,  with  the  reckless 
hardihood  of  a  soldier  accustomed  to  look  on  death  as 
the  fortune  of  war. 

Barnwell  denied  any  intention  of  killing  the  Queen 
(much  to  Diccon's  surprise),  but  pleaded  guilty  to  the 
rest.  Donne  said  that  on  being  told  of  the  plot  be  had 
prayed  that  whatever  was  most  to  the  honour  and 
glory  of  Heaven  might  be  done,  and  being  pushed  hard 
by  Hatton,  turned  this  into  a  confession  of  being  guilty. 
Salisbury  declared  that  he  had  always  protested  against 
killing  the  Queen,  and  that  he  would  not  have  done  so 
for  a  kingdom,  but  of  the  rest  he  was  guilty.  Tich- 
borne  showed  that  but  for  an  accidental  lameness  he 
would  have  been  at  his  home  in  Hampshire,  but  he 
could  not  deny  his  knowledge  of  the  treason. 

All  having  pleaded  guilty,  no  trial  was  permitted, 
such  as  would  have  brought  out  the  different  degrees 
of  guilt,  which  varied  in  all  the  seven. 

A  long  speech  was,  however,  made  by  the  counsel 
for  tlie  Crown,  detailing  the  plot  as  it  had  been  ar- 

2  E 


418  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOEY.  [CHAP. 

ranged  for  the  public  knowledge,  and  reading  aloud  a 
letter  from  Babington  to  Queen  Mary,  describing  his 
plans  both  for  her  rescue  and  the  assassination,  saying, 
"  he  had  appointed  six  noble  gentlemen  for  the  despatch 
of  the  wicked  competitor." 

Eichard  caught  a  look  of  astonishment  on  the  un- 
happy young  •  man's  face,  but  it  passed  into  hopeless 
despondency,  and  the  speech  went  on  to  describe  the 
picture  of  the  conspirators  and  its  strange  motto,  con- 
cluding with  an  accusation  that  they  meant  to  sack 
London,  burn  the  ships,  and  "  cloy  the  ordnance." 

A  shudder  of  horror  went  through  the  assembly, 
and  perhaps  few  except  Eichard  Talbot  felt  that  the 
examination  of  the  prisoners  ought  to  have  been  public. 
The  form,  however,  was  gone  through  of  asking  whether 
they  had  cause  to  render  wherefore  they  should  not  be 
condemned  to  die. 

The  first  to  speak  was  Ballard.  His  eyes  glanced 
round  with  an  indomitable  expression  of  scorn  and 
indignation,  which,  as  Diccon  whispered,  he  could 
have  felt  to  his  very  backbone.  It  was  like  that  of  a 
trapped  and  maimed  lion,  as  the  man  sat  in  his  chair 
with  crushed  and  racked  limbs,  but  with  a  spirit  un- 
tamed in  its  defiance. 

"  Cause,  my  Lords  V  he  replied.  "  The  cause  I  have 
to  render  will  not  avail  here,  but  it  may  avail  before 
another  Judgment-seat,  where  the  question  will  be,  who 
used  the  weapons  of  treason,  not  merely  against  wliom 
they  were  employed.  Inquiry  hath  not  been  made 
bere  who  suborned  the  priest,  Dr.  Gifford,  to  fetch  me 
over  from  Paris,  that  we  might  togetlier  overcome  the 
icruples  of  these  young  men,  and  lead  them  forward  in 
a  scheme  for  the  promotion  of  the  true  religion  and  the 
right  and  lawful  succession.     No  question  hath  here 


XXXII.]  WESTMINSTER  HALL.  4l9 

been  put  in  open  court,  who  framed  the  conspiracy,  nor 
for  what  purpose.  No,  my  Lords ;  it  would  baflle  the 
end  you  would  bring  about,  yea,  and  blot  the  reputation 
of  some  who  stand  in  high  places,  if  it  came  to  light 
that  the  plot  was  devised,  not  by  the  Catholics  who 
were  to  be  the  instruments  thereof,  nor  by  the  Lady  in 
whose  favour  all  was  to  be  done, — not  by  these,  the 
mere  victims,  but  by  him  who  by  a  triumph  of  policy 
thus  sent  forth  his  tempters  to  enclose  them  all  within 
his  net — above  all  the  persecuted  Lady  whom  all  true 
Catholics  own  as  the  only  lawful  sovereign  within 
these  realms.  Such  schemes,  when  they  succeed,  are 
termed  policy.  My  Lords,  I  confess  that  by  the  justice 
of  England  we  have  been  guilty  of  treason  against 
Queen  Elizabeth  ;  but  by  the  eternal  law  of  the  justice 
of  God,  we  have  suffered  treachery  far  exceeding  that 
for  which  we  are  about  to  die." 

"  I  marvel  that  they  let  the  fellow  speak  so  far," 
was  Cavendish's  comment. 

"  Nay,  but  is  it  so  ?"  asked  Diccon  with  startled 
^-yes. 

"  Hush  !  you  have  yet  to  learn  statecraft,"  returned 
his  friend. 

His  father's  monitory  hand  only  just  saved  the  boy 
from  bursting  out  with  something  that  would  have 
rather  astonished  Westminster  Hall,  and  caused  him  to 
be  taken  out  by  the  ushers.  It  is  not  wonderful  that 
no  report  of  the  priest's  speech  has  been  preserved. 

The  name  of  Antony  Babington  was  then  called. 
Probably  he  had  been  too  much  absorbed  in  the 
misery  of  his  position  to  pay  attention  to  the  preceding 
speech,  for  his  reply  was  quite  independent  of  it.  He 
prayed  the  Lords  to  believe,  and  to  represent  to  her 
Majesty,  that  he  had  received  with  horror  the  suggestion 


420  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CILVP 

of  compassing  lier  death,  and  had  only  been  brought  to 
believe  it  a  terrible  necessity  by  the  persuasions  of  this 
Ballard. 

On  this  Hatton  broke  forth  in  indignant  com- 
passion,— "  0  Ballard  !  Ballard  !  what  hast  thou  done  ? 
A  sort  of  brave  youth,  otherwise  endowed  with  good 
gifts,  by  thy  inducement  hast  thou  brought  to  theii 
utter  destruction  and  confusion  !" 

This  apparently  gave  some  hope  to  Babington,  for  he 
answered — "Yes,  I  protest  that,  before  I  met  this  Bal- 
lard, I  never  meant  nor  intended  for  to  kill  the  Queen ; 
but  by  his  persuasions  I  was  induced  to  believe  that 
she  being  excommunicate  it  was  lawful  to  murder  her." 

For  the  first  time  Ballard  betrayed  any  pain. 
"  Yes,  Mr.  Babington,"  he  said,  "  lay  all  the  blame 
upon  me;  but  I  wish  the  shedding  of  my  blood  might 
be  the  saving  of  your  life.  Howbeit,  say  what  you 
will,  I  will  say  no  more." 

"  He  is  the  bravest  of  them  all !"  was  Diccon's 
comment. 

"  Wot  you  that  he  was  once  our  spy  ?"  returned 
Cavendish  with  a  sneer ;  while  Sir  Christopher,  with 
the  satisfaction  of  a  little  nature  in  uttering  reproaches, 
returned — "  Nay,  Ballard,  you  must  say  more  and  shall 
say  more,  for  you  must  not  commit  treasons  and  then 
huddle  them  up.  Is  this  your  Religio  Catholica  ?  Nay, 
rather  it  is  Biaholica." 

Ballard  scorned  to  answer  this,  and  the  Clerk  passed 
on  to  Savage,  who  retained  his  soldierly  fatalism,  and 
only  shook  his  head.  Barnwell  again  denied  any  pur- 
pose of  injuring  the  Queen,  and  when  Hatton  spoke  of 
his  appearance  in  Eichmond  Park,  he  said  all  had  been 
for  conscience  sake.  So  said  Henry  Donne,  but  with 
far   more  piety  and    dignity,   adding,    "Fiat  volunsta 


XXXII.]  WESTMINSTER  HALL.  421 

Dei ; "  and  Thomas  Salisbury  was  the  only  one   who 
made  any  entreaty  for  pardon.  . 

Speeches  followed  from  the  Attorney-General,  and 
from  Sir  Christopher  Hatton,  and  then  the  Lord  Chief 
Justice  Anderson  pronounced  the  terrible  sentence. 

Eichard  Talbot  sat  with  his  head  bowed  between 
his  hands.  His  son  had  begun  listening  with  wide- 
stretched  eyes  and  mouth,  as  boyhood  hearkens  to  the 
dreadful,  and  with  the  hardness  of  an  unmerciful  time, 
too  apt  to  confound  pity  with  weakness  ;  but  when 
his  eye  fell  on  the  man  he  had  followed  about  as  an 
elder  playmate,  and  realised  all  it  conveyed,  his  cheek 
blanched,  Ids  jaw  fell,  and  he  hardly  knew  how  his 
lather  got  him  out  of  the  court. 

There  was  clearly  no  hope.  The  form  of  the  trial 
was  such  as  to  leave  no  chance  of  escape  from  the 
utmost  penalty.  No  witnesses  had  been  examined,  no 
degrees  of  guilt  acknowledged,  no  palliations  admitted. 
Perhaps  men  who  would  have  brought  the  Spanish 
havoc  on  their  native  country,  and  have  murdered  their 
sovereign,  were  beyond  the  pale  of  compassion.  All 
London  clearly  thought  so ;  and  yet,  as  Richard  Talbot 
dwelt  on  their  tones  and  looks,  and  remembered  how 
they  had  been  deluded  and  tempted,  and  made  to 
believe  their  deed  meritorious,  he  could  not  but  feel 
exceeding  pity  for  the  four  younger  men.  Ballard, 
Savage,  and  Barnwell  might  be  justly  doomed ;  even 
Babington  had,  by  his  own  admission,  entertained  a 
fearfully  evil  design  ;  but  the  other  three  had  evidently 
dipped  far  less  deeply  into  the  plot,  and  Tichborne 
had  only  concealed  it  out  of  friendship.  Yet  the  ruth- 
less judgment  condemned  all  alike  !  And  why  ?  To 
justify  a  yet  more  cruel  blow  !  No  wonder  honest 
Richard  Talbot  felt  sick  at  heart. 


422  DNKKOWN  TO  HISTORY.  fCHAP. 


.    CHAPTEE    XXXIIL 

IN   THE  TOWER. 

"  Here  is  a  lette?  from  Mr.  Secretary  to  the  Lieu- 
tenant of  the  Tower,  Master  Eichard,  bidding  him 
admit  you  to  speech  of  Babington,"  said  Will  Cavendish. 
••He  was  loath  to  give  it,  and  nothing  but  my  Lord 
Shrewsbury's  interest  would  have  done  it,  on  my  oath 
that  you  are  a  prudent  and  discreet  man,  who  hath 
been  conversant  in  these  matters  for  many  years." 

"  Yea,  and  that  long  before  you  were.  Master  Will," 
said  Eichard,  always  a  little  entertained  by  the  young 
gentleman's  airs  of  patronage.  "  However,  I  am  be- 
holden to  you." 

"  That  you  may  be,  for  you  are  the  only  person 
who  hath  obtained  admission  to  the  prisoners." 

"  N^ot  even  their  wives  ?" 

"  Mrs.  Ticliborne  is  in  the  country — so  best  for 
her — and  Mrs.  Babington  hath  never  demanded  it.  I 
trow  there  is  not  love  enough  between  them  to  make 
them  seek  such  a  meeting.  It  was  one  of  my  mother's 
matches.  Mistress  Cicely  would  have  cleaved  to  him 
more  closely,  though  I  am  glad  you  saw  through  the 
fellow  too  well  to  give  her  to  him.  She  would  be  a 
landless  widow,  whereas  this  Eatcliffe  wife  has  a  fair 
portion  for  her  child." 


XXXIII.]  IN  THE  TOWEK,  423 

"Then  Dethick  will  be  forfeited?" 

"  Ay.  They  say  the  Queen  hath  promised  it  to 
Raleigh." 

"  And  there  is  no  hope  of  mercy  ? " 

"  Not  a  tittle  for  any  man  of  them  !  Nay,  so  far 
from  it,  her  Majesty  asked  if  there  were  no  worse  nor 
more  extraordinary  mode  of  death  for  them." 

"  I  should  not  have  thought  it  of  her." 

"  Her  Majesty  hath  been  affrighted,  Master  Richard, 
sorely  affrighted,  though  she  put  so  bold  a  face  upon 
it,  and  there  is  nothing  a  woman,  who  prides  herself 
on  her  courage,  can  so  little  pardon." 

So  Richard,  sad  at  heart,  took  boat  and  ascended 
the  Thames  for  his  melancholy  visit.  The  gateway  was 
guarded  by  a  stalwart  yeoman,  halbert  in  hand,  who 
detained  him  while  the  officer  of  the  guard  was  called. 
On  showing  the  letter  from  Sir  Francis  Walsingham, 
Mr.  Talbot  was  conducted  by  this  personage  across  the 
first  paved  court  to  the  lodgings  of  the  Lieutenant 
under  so  close  a  guard  that  he  felt  as  if  he  were  about 
to  be  incarcerated  himself,  and  was  there  kept  waiting 
in  a  sort  of  guard-room  while  the  letter  was  delivered. 

Presently  the  Lieutenant,  Sir  Owen  Hopton,  a  well- 
bred  courteous  knight,  appeared  and  saluted  him  with 
apologies  for  his  detention  and  all  these  precautions, 
saying  that  the  orders  were  to  keep  a  close  guard  and  to 
hinder  all  communication  from  without,  so  that  nothing 
short  of  this  letter  would  have  obtained  entrance  for 
the  bearer,  whom  he  further  required  to  set  down  his 
name  and  designation  in  full.  Then,  after  asking  how 
long  the  visitor  wished  to  remain  with  the  prisoners — 
for  Tichborne  and  Babington  were  quartered  together 
— he  called  a  warder  and  committed  Mr.  Talbot  to  his 
guidance,  to  remain  for  two  hours  locked  up  in  the  celL 


424  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOIIY.  [CHAP 

"  Sir,"  added  Sir  Owen,  "  it  is  superfluous  to  tell 
you  that  on  coming  out,  you  must  either  give  me  your 
word  of  honour  that  you  convey  nothing  from  the 
prisoners,  or  else  submit  to  be  searched." 

Eichard  smiled,  and  observed  that  men  were  wont 
to  trust  his  word  of  honour,  to  which  the  knight 
heartily  replied  that  he  was  sure  of  it,  and  he  then 
followed  the  warder  up  stone  stairs  and  along  vaulted 
passages,  where  the  clang  of  their  footsteps  made  his 
heart  sink.  The  prisoners  were  in  the  White  Tower, 
the  central  body  of  the  grim  building,  and  the  warder, 
after  unlocking  the  door,  announced,  with  no  unneces- 
sary rudeness,  but  rather  as  if  he  were  glad  of  any 
comfort  to  his  charges,  "  Here,  sirs,  is  a  gentleman  to 
visit  you." 

They  had  both  risen  at  the  sound  of  the  key  turn- 
ing in  the  lock,  and  Antony  Babington's  face  Lighted 
up  as  he  exclaimed,  "  Mr.  Talbot !  I  knew  you  would 
come  if  it  were  possible." 

"  I  come  by  my  Lord's  desire,"  replied  Eichard,  the 
close  wringing  of  his  hand  expressing  feeling  to  which 
he  durst  not  give  way  in  words.' 

He  took  in  at  the  moment  that  the  room,  though 
stern  and  strong,  was  not  squalid.  It  was  lighted  fully 
by  a  window,  iron-barred,  but  not  small,  and  according 
to  custom,  the  prisoners  had  been  permitted  to  furnish, 
at  their  own  expense,  sufficient  garniture  for  comfort, 
and  as  both  were  wealthy  men,  they  were  fairly  pro- 
vided, and  they  were  not  fettered.  Both  looked  paler 
than  when  Eichard  had  seen  them  in  Westminster 
Hall  two  days  previously.  Antony  was  as  usual 
neatly  arrayed,  with  well-trimmed  hair  and  beard,  but 
Tichborne's  hung  neglected,  and  there  was  a  hollow, 
haggard  look  about  his  eyes,  as  if  of  dismay  at  his 


XXXIII.]  IN  THE  TOWER.  425 

approaching  fate.  Neither  was,  however,  forgetful  of 
courtesy,  and  as  Babington  presented  Mr.. Talbot  to  his 
friend,  the  gTeeting  and  welcome  would  have  befitted 
the  halls  of  Dethick  or  Tichborne. 

"  Sirs,"  said  the  young  man,  with  a  sad  smile  irradi- 
ating for  a  moment  the  restless  despair  of  his  counte- 
nance, "  it  is  not  by  choice  that  I  am  an  intruder  on 
your  privacy ;  I  will  abstract  myself  so  far  as  is  pos- 
sible." 

"  I  have  no  secrets  from  my  Chidiock,"  cried 
Babington. 

"  But  Mr.  Talbot  may,"  replied  his  friend,  "  there- 
fore I  will  only  first  inquire  whether  he  can  tell 
ns  aught  of  the  royal  lady  for  whose  sake  we  suffer. 
They  have  asked  us  many  questions,  but  answered 
none." 

Richard  was  able  to  reply  that  after  the  seclusion 
at  Tixall  she  had  been  brought  back  to  Chartley,  and 
there  was  no  difference  in  the  manner  of  her  custody, 
moreover,  that  she  had  recovered  from  her  attack  of 
illness,  tidings  he  had  just  received  in  a  letter  from 
Humfrey.  He  did  not  feel  it  needful  to  inflict  a  pang 
on  the  men  who  were  to  die  in  two  days'  time  by 
letting  them  know  that  she  was  to  be  immediately 
biDiight  to  trial  on  the  evidence  extracted  from  them. 
On  hearing  that  her  captivity  was  not  straitened,  both 
looked  reheved,  and  Tichborne,  thanking  him,  lay 
down  on  his  own  bed,  turned  his  face  to  the  wall,  and 
drew  the  covering  over  his  head. 

"  Ah  ! "  sighed  Babington,  "  is  there  no  hope  for 
him — he  who  has  done  naught  but  guard  too  faith- 
fully my  unhappy  secret  ?  Is  he  to  die  for  his  faith 
and  honour  ?" 

'*  Alas,  Antony !  I  am  forbidden  to  give  theo  hope 


426  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

for  any.  Of  that  we  must  not  speak.  The  time  is 
short  enough  for  what  needs  to  be  spoken." 

"  I  knew  that  there  was  none  for   myself,"   said 

Antony,  "  but  for   those  whom "      There   was   a 

gesture  from  Tichborne  as  if  he  could  not  bear  this, 
and  he  went  on,  "  Yea,  there  is  a  matter  on  which  I 
must  needs  speak  to  you,  sir.  The  young  lady — 
where  is  she  ?" — he  spoke  earnestly,  and  lowering  his 
voice  as  he  bent  his  head. 

"  She  is  still  at  Chartley." 

"  That  is  well  But,  sir,  she  must  be  guarded.  I  fear 
me  there  is  one  who  is  aware  of  her  parentage." 

"  The  Scottish  archer  ?" 

"  No,  the  truth." 

"  You  knew  it  ?" 

'■  Not  when  I  made  my  suit  to  her,  or  I  should 
never  have  dared  to  lift  my  eyes  so  far." 

"I  suppose  your  knowledge  came  from  Langston," 
said  Richard,  more  perturbed  than  amazed  at  the  dis- 
closure. 

"  Even  so.  Yet  I  am  not  certain  whether  he  knows 
or  only  guesses ;  but  at  any  rate  be  on  your  guard 
for  her  sake.  He  has  proved  himself  so  unspeakable 
a  villain  that  none  can  guess  what  he  will  do  next. 
He — he  it  is  above  all — yea,  above  even  Gilford  and 
Ballard,  who  has  brought  us  to  this  pass." 

He  was  becoming  fiercely  agitated,  but  putting  a 
force  upon  himself  said,  "  Have  patience,  good  Mr. 
Talbot,  of  your  kindness,  and  I  will  tell  you  all,  that 
you  may  understand  the  coilings  of  the  serpent  who 
led  me  hither,  and  if  possible  save  her  from  them." 

Antony  then  explained  that  so  soon  as  he  had 
become  his  own  master  he  had  followed  the  inclina- 
tions which  led  him.  to  the  church  of  his  mother  and 


XXXIII.]  IN  THE  TOWER.  427 

of  Queen  Mary,  the  two  beings  be  bad  always  regarded 
witb  the  most  fervent  affection  and  love.  His  mother's 
kindred  had  brought  him  in  contact  with  the  Epman 
Catholic  priests  who  circulated  in  England,  at  the 
utmost  peril  of  their  lives,  to  keep  up  the  faith  of  the 
gentry,  and  in  many  cases  to  intrigue  for  Queen  Mary. 
Among  these  plotters  he  fell  in  with  Cuthbert  Lang- 
ston,  a  Jesuit  of  the  third  order,  though  not  a  priest, 
and  one  of  the  most  active  agents  in  corresponding 
with  Queen  Mary.  His  small  stature,  colourless  com- 
plexion, and  insignificant  features,  rendered  him  almost 
a  blank  block,  capable  of  assuming  any  variety  of 
disguise.  He  also  knew  several  languages,  could 
imitate  different  dialects,  and  counterfeit  male  and 
female  voices  so  that  very  few  could  detect  him.  He 
had  soon  made  himself  known  to  Babington  as  the 
huckster  Tibbott  of  days  gone  by,  and  had  then  dis- 
closed to  him  that  Cicely  was  certainly  not  the 
daughter  of  her  supposed  parents,  telling  of  her  rescue 
from  the  wreck,  and  hinting  that  lier  rank  was  exalted, 
and  that  he  knew  secrets  respecting  her  which  he  was 
about  to  make  known  to  the  Queen  of  Scots.  With 
this  purpose  among  others,  Langstou  had  adopted  the 
disguise  of  the  woman  selling  sj^ars  with  the  password 
"  Beads  and  Bracelets,"  and  being  well  known  as  an 
agent  of  correspondence  to  the  suite  of  the  captive 
Queen,  he  had  been  able  to  direct  Gorion's  attention 
to  the  maiden,  and  to  let  him  know  that  she  was  the 
same  with  the  infant  who  had  been  put  on  board  the 
Bride  of  Bunhar  at  Dumbarton. 

How  mvich  more  did  Langston  guess  ?  He  had 
told  Babington  the  story  current  among  the  outer  circle 
of  Mary's  followers  of  the  maiden  being  the  daughter 
of  the  Scotch  archer,  and  had  taught  him   her  true 


428  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

name,  encouraging  too,  his  aspirations  towards  her  dur- 
ing the  time  of  his  courtship.  Babington  believed 
Langston  to  have  been  at  that  time  still  a  sincere 
partizan  of  Queen  Mary,  but  all  along  to  have  enter- 
tained a  suspicion  that  there  was  a  closer  relationship 
between  Bride  Hepburn  and  the  Queen  than  was 
avowed,  though  to  Babington  himself  he  had  only  given 
mysterious  hints. 

But  towards  the  end  of  the  captivity  at  Tutbury,  he 
had  made  some  further  discovery,  which  confirmed  his 
suspicions,  and  had  led  to  another  attempt  to  accost 
Cicely,  and  to  make  the  Queen  aware  of  his  knowledge, 
perhaps  in  order  to  verify  it,  or  it  might  be  to  gain  power 
over  her,  a  reward  for  the  introduction,  or  to  extort 
bribes  to  secrecy.  For  looking  back,  Antony  could  now 
perceive  that  by  this  time  a  certain  greed  of  lucre  had 
set  in  upon  the  man,  who  had  obtained  large  sums  of 
secret  service  money  from  himself ;  and  avarice,  together 
with  the  rebuff  he  had  received  from  the  Queen,  had 
doubtless  rendered  him  accessible  to  the  temptations  of 
the  arch-plotters  Gifford  and  Morgan.  Eichard  coidd 
believe  this,  for  the  knowledge  had  been  forced  on  him 
that  there  were  an  incredible  number  of  intriguers  at 
that  time,  spies  and  conspirators,  often  in  the  pay  of 
both  parties,  impartially  betraying  the  one  to  the  other, 
and  sometimes,  through  miscalculation,  meeting  the  fate 
they  richly  deserved.  Many  a  man  who  had  begun 
enthusiastically  to  work  in  undergTound  ways  for  what 
he  thought  the  righteous  cause,  became  so  enamoured 
of  the  undermining  process,  and  the  gold  there  to  be 
picked  up,  that  from  a  wrong-headed  partizan  he  be- 
came a  traitor — often  a  double-faced  one — and  would 
work  secretly  in  the  interest  of  whichever  cause  would 
pay  him  best. 


XXXIII.]  IN  THE  TOWER.  429 

Poor  Babington  had  been  far  too  youthfully  simple 
to  guess  what  he  now  perceived,  that  he  had  been 
made  the  mere  tool  and  instrument  of  these  traitors. 
He  had  been  instructed  in  Gifford's  arrangement  with 
the  Burton  brewer  for  conveying  letters  to  Mary  at 
Chartley,  and  had  been  made  the  means  of  informing 
her  of  it  by  means  of  his  interview  with  Cicely,  when 
he  had  brought  tlie  letter  in  the  watch.  The  letter 
had  been  conveyed  to  him  by  Langston,  the  watch 
had  been  his  own  device.  It  was  after  this  meet- 
ing, of  which  Eichard  now  heard  for  the  first  time, 
that  Langston  had  fully  told  his  belief  respecting 
the  true  birth  of  Bride  Hepburn,  and  assured  Bab- 
ington that  there  was  no  hope  of  his  wedding  her, 
though  the  Queen  might  allow  him  to  delude  himself 
with  the  idea  of  her  favour  in  order  to  bind  liim  to 
her  service. 

It  was  then  that  Babington  consented  to  Lady 
Shrewsbury's  new  match  with  the  well-endowed  Eleanor 
Eatcliffe.  If  he  could  not  have  Cicely,  he  cared  not 
whom  he  had.  He  had  been  leading  a  wild  and  ex- 
travagant life  about  town,  when  (as  poor  Tichborne 
afterwards  said  on  the  scaffold)  the  flourishing  estate 
of  Babington  and  Tichborne  was  the  talk  of  Fleet 
Street  and  the  Strand,  and  he  had  also  many  calls 
for  secret  service  money,  so  that  all  his  thought  was 
to  have  more  to  spend  in  the  service  of  Queen  Mary 
and  her  daughter. 

"  Oh,  sir  1  I  have  been  as  one  distraught  all  this 
past  year,"  he  said.  "  How  often  since  I  have  been 
shut  up  here,  and  I  have  seen  how  I  have  been  duped 
and  gulled,  have  your  words  come  back  to  me,  that  to 
enter  on  crooked  ways  was  the  way  to  destruction  for 
myself  and  others,  and  that  I  miglit  only  be  serving 


430  UNKNOWN  TO  IIISTOIIV.  [CHAP. 

worse  men  than  myself  !  And  yet  th(iy  were  priests 
who  misled  me !" 

"  Even  in  your  own  religion  there  are  many  priests 
who  would  withhold  you  from  such  crimes,"  said 
Piichard. 

"  There  are !  I  know  it !  I  have  spoken  with  them. 
They  say  no  priest  can  put  aside  the  eternal  laws  of  God's 
justice.  So  these  others,  Chidiock  here,  Donne  and 
Salisbury,  always  cried  out  against  the  slaying  of  the 
Queen,  though — wretch  that  I  was — and  gulled  by 
Ballard  and  Savage,  I  deemed  the  exploit  so  noble  and 
praiseworthy  that  I  even  joined  Tichborne  with  me 
in  that  accursed  portraiture  !  Yea,  you  may  well  deem 
me  mad,  but  it  was  Gifford  who  encouraged  me  in 
having  it  made,  no  doubt  to  assure  our  ruin.  Oh,  Mr. 
Talbot !  was  ever  man  so  cruelly  deceived  as  me  ?" 

"  It  is  only  too  true,  Antony.  My  heart  is  full  of 
rage  and  indignation  when  I  think  thereof.  And  yet, 
my  poor  lad,  what  concerns  thee  most  is  to  lay  aside  all 
such  thoughts  as  may  not  tend  to  repentance  before 
God." 

"  I  know  it,  I  know  it,  sir.  All  the  more  that  we 
shall  die  without  the  last  sacraments.  Commend  us 
to  the  prayers  of  our  Queen,  sir,  and  of  her.  But  to 
proceed  with  what  imports  you  to  know  for  her  sake, 
while  I  have  space  to  speak." 

He  proceeded  to  tell  how,  between  dissipation  and 
intrigue,  he  had  lived  in  a  perpetual  state  of  excitement, 
going  backwards  and  forwards  between  London  and 
Lichfield  to  attend  to  the  correspondence  with  Queen 
]\Iary  and  the  Spanish  ambassador  in  France,  and  to 
arrange  the  details  of  the  plot ;  always  being  worked 
up  to  the  highest  pitch  by  Gifford  and  Ballard,  while 
Langston  continued  to  be  the  areat  assistant  in  all  the 


XXXIII.]  IN  THE  TOWER.  431 

correspondence.  All  the  time  Sir  Francis  Walsingham, 
who  was  really  aware  of  all,  if  not  the  prime  mover  in 
the  intrigue,  appeared  perfectly  unsuspicious ;  often 
received  Babington  at  his  house,  and  discussed  a  plan  of 
sending  him  on  a  commission  to  France,  while  in  point 
of  fact  every  letter  that  travelled  in  the  Burton  barrels 
was  deciphered  by  Phillipj^s,  and  laid  before  the  Secre- 
tary before  being  read  by  the  proper  owners.  In  none 
of  these,  however,  as  Babington  could  assure  ]\Ir.  Talbot, 
had  Cicely  been  mentioned, —  the  only  danger  to  her 
was  through  Langston. 

Things  had  come  to  a  climax  in  July,  when  Bab- 
ington had  been  urged  to  obtain  from  Mary  such 
definite  approbation  of  his  plans  as  might  satisfy  his 
confederates,  and  had  in  consequence  written  the 
letter  and  obtained  the  answer,  copies  of  which  had 
been  read  to  him  at  his  private  examination,  and 
which  certainly  contained  fatal  matter  to  both  him 
and  the  Queen. 

They  had  no  doubt  been  called  forth  with  that 
intent,  and  a  doubt  had  begun  to  arise  in  the  victim's 
mind  whether  the  last  reply  had  been  really  the  Queen's 
own.  It  had  been  delivered  to  him  in  the  street,  not 
by  the  usual  channel,  but  by  a  blue-coated  serving- 
man.  Two  or  three  days  later  Humfrey  had  told  him 
of  Langston's  interview  with  Walsingham,  which  he 
had  at  the  time  laughed  to  scorn,  thinking  himself  able 
to  penetrate  any  disguise  of  that  Proteus,  and  like"\\dse 
believing  that  he  was  blinding  "Walsingham. 

He  first  took  alarm  a  few  days  after  Humfrey's  de- 
parture, and  wrote  to  Queen  Mary  to  warn  her,  convinced 
that  the  traitor  must  be  Langston.  Ballard  became 
himself  suspected,  and  after  lurking  about  in  various 
diso'uises  was  arrested  in  Babin^fton's  own  lod<j;in"s.    To 


432  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOEY.  [CHAP. 

disarm  suspicion,  Antony  went  to  Walsingham  to  talk 
about  the  French  Mission,  and  tried  to  resume  his  usual 
habits,  but  in  a  tavern,  he  became  aware  that  Langstoti, 
under  some  fresh  shape,  was  watching  him,  and  hastily 
throwing  down  the  reckoning,  he  fled  without  his  cloak 
or  sword  to  Gage's  house  at  Westminster,  where  he  took 
horse,  bid  liimself  in  St.  John's  Wood,  and  finally  was 
taken,  half  starved,  in  an  outhouse  at  Harrow,  belong- 
ing to  a  farmer,  whose  mercy  involved  him  in  the  like 
doom. 

This  was  the  substance  of  the  story  told  by  the 
unfortunate  young  man  to  Richard  Talbot,  whom  he 
owned  as  the  best  and  wisest  friend  he  had  ever  had — 
going  back  to  the  warnings  twice  given,  that  no  cause  is 
served  by  departing  from  the  right ;  no  kingdom  safely 
won  by  worshipping  the  devil :  "  And  sure  I  did  wor- 
ship him  when  I  let  myself  be  led  by  Gifford,"  he  said. 

His  chief  anxiety  was  not  for  his  wife  and  her  child, 
who  he  said  would  be  well  taken  care  of  by  the  Kat- 
cliffe  family,  and  who,  alas !  had  never  won  his  heart. 
In  fact  he  was  relieved  that  he  was  not  permitted  to 
see  the  young  thing,  even  had  she  wished  it ;  it  could 
do  no  good  to  either  of  tliem,  though  he  had  written  a 
letter,  which  she  was  to  deliver,  for  the  Queen,  com- 
mending her  to  her  Majesty's  mercy. 

His  love  had  been  for  Cicely,  and  even  that  had 
never  been,  as  Eichard  saw,  such  purifying,  restraining, 
self-sacrificing  affection  as  was  Humfrey's.  It  was 
half  romance,  half  a  sort  of  offshoot  from  his  one  great 
and  absorbing  passion  of  devotion  to  the  Queen  of 
Scots,  which  was  still  as  strong  as  ever.  He  entrusted 
Eichard  with  his  humblest  commendations  to  her,  and 
strove  to  rest  in  the  belief  that  as  many  a  conspirator 
before — such  as  Norfolk,  Throckmorton,  Parry — had 


XXXIII.]  IN  THE  TOWER.  433 

perished  on  lier  behalf  while  she  remained  untouched, 
that  so  it  might  again  be,  since  surely,  if  she  were  to 
be  tried,  he  would  have  been  kept  alive  as  a  witness. 
The  peculiar  custom  of  the  time  in  State  prosecutions 
of  hanging  the  witnesses  before  the  trial  had  not 
occurred  to  him. 

But  how  would  it  be  with  Cicely  ?  "  Is  what  this 
fellow  guessed  the  very  truth  ? "  he  asked. 

Eichard  made  a  sign  of  affirmation,  saying,  "  Is  it 
only  a  guess  on  his  part  ?" 

Babington  believed  the  man  stopped  short  of  abso- 
lute certainty,  though  he  had  declared  himself  to  have 
reason  to  believe  that  a  child  must  have  been  born 
to  the  captive  queen  at  Lochleven ;  and  if  so,  where 
else  could  she  be  ?  Was  he  waiting  for  clear  proof  to 
make  the  secret  known  to  the  Council  ?  Did  he  intend 
to  make  profit  of  it  and  obtain  in  the  poor  girl  a  sub- 
ject for  further  intrigue  ?  Was  he  withheld  by  con- 
sideration for  Eichard  Talbot,  for  whom  Babington 
declared  that  if  such  a  villain  could  be  believed  in  any 
respect,  he  had  mucli  family  regard  and  deep  gratitude, 
since  Eichard  had  stood  liis  friend  when  all  his  family 
had  cast  him  off  in  much  resentment  at  his  change  of 
purpose  and  opinion. 

At  any  rate  he  had  in  his  power  Cicely's  welfare 
ani  liberty,  if  not  the  lives  of  her  adopted  parents, 
since  in  the  present  juncture  of  affairs,  and  of  universal 
suspiciou,  the  concealment  of  the  existence  of  one  who 
stood  so  near  the  throne  might  easily  be  represented  as 
high  treason.     Where  was  he  ? 

No  one  knew.  For  appearance  sake,  Gifford  liad 
fie/i  bsyoud  seas,  happily  only  to  fall  into  a  prison  of 
the  Duke  of  Guise  :  and  they  must  hope  that  Langstou 
might   have   followed  the    same   course.       Meantime, 

2f 


434  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

Eichard  could  but  go  on  as  before,  Cicely  being  now 
in  her  own  mother's  hands.  The  avowal  of  her 
identity  must  remain  for  the  present  as  might  be  de- 
termined by  her  who  had  the  right  to  decide. 

"  I  would  I  could  feel  hope  for  any  I  leave  behind 
me,"  said  poor  Antony.  "  I  trow  you  will  not  bear  the 
maiden  my  message,  for  you  will  deem  it  a  sin  that  I 
have  loved  her,  and  only  her,  to  the  last,  though  I  have 
been  false  to  that  love  as  to  all  else  beside.  Tell 
Humfrey  how  I  long  that  I  had  been  like  liim,  though 
he  too  must  love  on  without  hope." 

He  seut  warm  greetings  to  good  Mistress  Susan 
Talbot  and  craved  her  prayers.  He  had  one  other 
care,  namely  to  commend  to  ]\Ir.  Talbot  an  old  body 
servant,  Harry  Gillingham  by  name,  who  had  attended 
on  him  in  his  boyhood  at  Sheffield,  and  had  been  with 
him  all  his  life,  being  admitted  even  now,  under  super- 
vision from  the  warders,  to  wait  on  him  when  dressing 
and  at  his  meals.  The  poor  man  was  broken-hearted, 
and  so  near  desperation  that  his  master  wished  much 
to  get  him  out  of  London  before  the  execution.  So, 
as  Mr.  Talbot  meant  to  sail  for  Hull  by  the  next  day's 
tide  in  the  Mastiff,  he  promised  to  take  the  poor  fellow 
with  him  back  to  Bridgefield. 

All  this  had  taken  much  time.  Antony  did  not 
seem  disposed  to  go  farther  into  his  own  feelings  in 
the  brief  space  that  remained,  but  he  took  up  a  paper 
from  the  table,  and  indicating  Tichborne,  who  still 
affected  sleep,  he  asked  whether  it  was  fit  that  a  man, 
who  could  write  thus,  should  die  for  a  plot  against 
which  he  had  always  protested.  Eichard  read  these 
touching  lines : — '- 


XXXIII.]  IN  THE  TOWER.  435 

My  prime  of  youth  is  but  a  frost  of  care, 

My  feast  of  joy  is  but  a  dish  of  pain, 
My  crop  of  corn  is  but  a  fiekl  of  tares, 

And  all  my  goods  is  but  vain  hope  of  gain. 
The  day  is  fled,  and  yet  I  saw  no  sun  ; 
And  now  I  live,  and  now  my  life  is  done. 

My  spring  is  past,  and  yet  it  hath  not  sprung  ; 

The  fruit  is  dead,  and  yet  the  leaves  are  green  j 
My  youth  is  past,  and  yet  I  am  but  young ; 

I  saw  the  world,  antl  yet  I  was  not  seen. 
My  thread  is  cut,  and  yet  it  is  not  sj)un ; 
And  now  I  live,  and  now  my  life  is  done. 

I  sought  for  death,  and  found  it  in  the  wombe  ; 

I  lookt  for  life,  and  yet  it  was  a  shade  ; 
I  trode  the  ground,  and  knew  it  was  my  tombe, 

And  now  I  dye,  and  now  I  am  but  made. 
The  glass  is  full,  and  yet  my  glass  is  run  ; 
And  now  I  live,  and  now  my  life  is  done. 

Little  used  to  poetry,  these  lines  made  the  good 
man's  eyes  fill  with  tears  as  he  looked  at  the  two 
goodly  young  men  about  to  be  cut  oft"  so  early — one 
indeed  guilty,  but  the  victim  of  an  iniquitous  act  of 
deliberate  treachery. 

He  asked  if  Mr.  Tichborne  wished  to  entrust  to 
him  augiit  that  could  be  done  by  word  of  mouth,  and 
a  few  commissions  were  given  to  him.  Then  Antony 
bethought  him  of  thanks  to  Lord  and  Lady  Shrews- 
bury for  all  they  had  done  for  him,  and  above  all  for 
sending  Mr.  Talbot ;  and  a  message  to  ask  pardon  for 
having  so  belied  the  loyal  education  they  had  given 
him.  The  divided  religion  of  the  country  had  been 
his  bane :  his  mother's  charge  secretly  to  follow  her 
faith  had  been  the  beginning,  and  then  had  followed 
the  charms  of  stratagem  on  behalf  of  Queen  Mary. 

Perhaps,  after  all,  his  death,  as  a  repentant  man  still 


436  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

single  minded,  saved  him  from  lapsing  into  the  double 
vileness  of  the  veteran  intriguers  whose  prey  he  had 
been. 

"  I  commend  me  to  the  Mercy  Master  Who  sees  my 
heart,"  he  said. 

Herewith  the  warder  returned,  and  at  his  request 
summoned  Gillingham,  a  sturdy  grizzled  fellow,  looking 
grim  with  grief.  Babington  told  him  of  the  arrange- 
ment made,  and  that  he  was  to  leave  London  early  in 
the  morning  with  Mr.  Talbot,  but  the  man  immediately 
dropped  on  his  knees  and  swore  a  solemn  oath  that 
nothing  should  induce  him  to  leave  the  place  while  his 
master  breathed.  ^ 

"  Thou  foolish  knave,"  said  Antony,  "  thou  canst  do 
me  no  good,  and  wilt  but  make  thyself  a  more  piteous 
wretch  than  thou  art  already.  Why,  'tis  for  love  of 
thee  that  I  would  have  thee  spared  the  sight." 

"Am  I  a  babe  to  be  spared  ?"  growled  the  man. 

And  all  that  he  could  be  induced  to  promise  was 
that  he  would  repair  to  Bridgefield  as  soon  as  all  was 
over — "  Unless,"  said  he,  "  I  meet  one  of  those  accursed 
rogues,  and  then  a  halter  would  be  sweet,  if  I  had  first 
had  my  will  of  them." 

"  Hush,  Harry,  or  Master  Warder  will  be  locking 
thee  up  next,"  said  Antony. 

And  then  came  the  farewell.  It  was  at  last  a  long, 
speechless,  sorrowful  embrace ;  and  then  Antony,  slip- 
ping from  it  to  his  knees,  said — "  Bless  me  !  Oh  bless 
me  :  thou  who  hast  been  mine  only  true  friend.  Bless 
me  as  a  father !" 

"  May  God  in  Heaven  bless  thee  !"  said  Eichard, 
solemnly  laying  his  hand  on  his  head.  "  May  He,  Who 
knoweth  how  thou  hast  been  led  astray,  pardon  thee ! 
May  He,  Who  hath  felt  the  agonies  and  shame  of  the 


XX XIII.]  IN  THE  TOWEK.  437 

Cross,  redi'em  thee,  and  suffer  thee  not  for  any  pains  of 
death  to  fall  from  Him !" 

He  was  glad  to  hear  afterwards,  when  broken- 
hearted Gillingham  joined  him,  that  the  last  words 
heard  from  Antony  Babington's  lips  were — "Farce 
mihd,  Domine  Jesu  ! " 


438  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOKY.  [CHAP. 


CHAPTER    XXXIV. 

FOTHERIXGIIAY. 

"Is  this  ray  last  journey  ?"  said  Queen  IMury,  with  a 
strange,  sad  smile,  as  she  took  her  seat  in  the  heavy 
lumhering  coach  which  had  been  appointed  for  her 
conveyance  from  Chartley,  her  rheumatism  having  set 
in  too  severely  to  permit  her  to  ride. 

"  Say  not  so ;  your  Grace  has  weathered  many  a 
storm  before,"  said  Marie  de  Courcelles.  "  This  one 
will  also  pass  over." 

"  Ah,  my  good  Marie,  never  before  have  I  felt  this 
foreboding  and  sinking  of  the  heart.  I  have  always 
hoped  before,  but  I  have  exhausted  the  casket  of  Pan- 
dora.     Even  hope  is  flown  !" 

Jean  Kennedy  tried  to  say  something  of  "  Darkest 
before  dawn." 

"  The  dawn,  it  may  be,  of  the  eternal  day,"  said  the 
Queen.  "  Nay,  my  friends,  the  most  welcome  tidings 
that  could  greet  me  would  be  that  my  weary  bondage 
was  over  for  ever,  and  that  I  should  wreck  no  more 
gallant  hearts.  AVhat,  mi/jnonnc,  art  thou  weeping  ? 
There  will  be  freedom  again  for  thee  when  that  day 
comes." 

"  0  madam,  I  want  not  freedom  at  such  a 
price!"      And   yet   Cicely  had   never   recovered    her 


XXXIV.]  FOTHEEINGHAY.  439 

looks  since  those  seventeen  days  at  Tickhill.  She  still 
looked  white  and  thin,  and  her  dark  eyebrows  lay  in  a 
heavy  line,  seldom  lifted  by  the  merry  looks  and  sniilea 
that  used  to  flash  over  her  face.  Life  had  begun  to 
press  its  weight  upon  her,  and  day  after  day,  as  Hum- 
frey  watched  her  across  the  chapel,  and  exchanged  a 
word  or  two  with  her  while  crossing  tlie  yard,  had  he 
grieved  at  her  altered  mien ;  and  vexed  himself  with 
wondering  whether  she  had  after  all  loved  Babington, 
and  were  mourning  for  him. 

Truly,  even  without  the  passion  of  love,  there  had 
been  much  to  shock  and  appal  a  young  heart  in  the 
fate  of  the  playfellow  of  her  childhood,  the  suitor  of 
her  youth.  It  was  the  first  death  among  those  she  had 
known  intimately,  and  even  her  small  knowledge  of  the 
cause  made  her  feel  miserable  and  almost  guilty,  for 
had  not  poor  Antony  plotted  for  her  mother,  and  had 
not  she  been  held  out  to  him  as  a  delusive  inducement  ? 
Moreover,  she  felt  the  burden  of  a  deep,  pitying  love 
and  admiration  not  wholly  joined  with  perfect  trust 
and  reliance.  She  had  been  from  the  first  startled  by 
untruths  and  concealments.  There  was  mystery  all 
round  her,  and  the  future  was  dark.  There  were  terrible 
forebodings  for  her  mother ;  and  if  she  looked  beyond 
for  herself,  only  uncertainty  and  fear  of  being  com- 
manded to  follow  Marie  de  Courcelles  to  a  foreign 
court,  perhaps  to  a  convent ;  while  she  yearned  with 
an  almost  sick  longing  for  home  and  kind  Mrs.  Talbot's 
motherly  tenderness  and  trustworthiness,  and  the  veiy 
renunciation  of  Humfrey  that  she  had  spoken  so  easily, 
had  made  her  aware  of  his  full  worth,  and  wakened 
in  her  a  longing  for  the  right  to  rest  on  his  stout  arm 
and  faithful  heart.  To  look  across  at  him  and  know 
him  near  often  seemed  her  best  support,  and  was  she 


440  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

to  be  cut  off  from  him  for  ever  ?  The  devotions  of  the 
Queen,  though  she  had  been  deprived  of  her  almoner, 
liad  been  much  increased  of  late  as  one  preparing  for 
death ;  and  with  them  were  associated  all  her  house- 
hold of  the  Eoman  Catholic  faith,  leaving  out  Cicely 
and  the  two  Mrs.  Curlls.  The  long  oft-repeated  Latin 
orisons,  such  as  the  penitential  Psalms,  would  certainly 
have  been  wearisome  to  the  girl,  but  it  gave  her  a  pang 
to  be  pointedly  excluded  as  one  who  had  no  part  nor 
lot  with  her  mother.  Perhaps  this  was  done  by  calcu- 
lation, in  order  to  incline  her  to  embrace  her  mother's 
faith ;  and  the  time  was  not  spent  very  pleasantly,  as 
she  had  nothing  but  needlework  to  occupy  her,  and 
no  soci'ety  save  that  of  the  sisters  Curll.  Barbara's 
spirits  were  greatly  depressed  by  the  loss  of  her  infant 
and  anxiety  for  her  husband.  His  evidence  might  be 
life  or  death  to  the  Queen,  and  his  betrayal  of  her  confi- 
dence, or  his  being  tortured  for  his  fidelity,  were  terrible 
alternatives  for  his  wife's  imagination.  It  was  hard  to 
say  whether  she  were  more  sorry  or  glad  when,  on  leav- 
ing Chartley,  she  was  forbidden  to  continue  her  attend- 
ance on  the  Queen,  and  set  free  to  follow  him  to  London. 
The  poor  lady  knew  nothing,  and  dreaded  everything. 
She  could  not  help  discussing  her  anxieties  when  alone 
with  Cicely,  thus  rendering  perceptible  more  and  more 
of  the  ramifications  of  plot  and  intrigue — past  and 
present— at  which  she  herself  only  guessed  a  part. 
Assuredly  the  finding  herself  a  princess,  and  sharing  the 
captivity  of  a  queen,  had  not  proved  so  like  a  chapter 
of  the  Morte  d' Arthur  as  it  had  seemed  to  Cicely  at 
Buxton. 

It  was  as  unlike  as  was  riding  a  white  palfrey 
through  a  forest,  guided  by  knights  in  armour,  to  the 
being  packed  with  all  the  ladies  into  a  heavy  jolting 


XXXIV.'J  FOTHERINGHAY,  441 

conveyance,  guarded  before  and  behind  by  armed  ser* 
vants  and  yeomen,  among  whom  Humfrey's  form  could 
only  now  and  then  be  detected. 

The  Queen  had  chosen  her  seat  where  she  could 
best  look  out  from  the  scant  amount  of  window. 
She  gazed  at  the  harvest-fields  full  of  sheaves,  the  or- 
chards laden  with  ruddy  apples,  the  trees  assuming  their 
autumn  tints,  with  lingering  eyes,  as  of  one  who  fore- 
boded that  these  sights  of  eartli  were  passing  from  her. 

Two  nights  were  spent  on  the  road,  one  at  Leicester ; 
and  on  the  fourth  day,  the  captain  in  charge  of  the 
castle  for  the  governor  Sir  William  Fitzwilliam,  who 
had  come  to  escort  and  receive  her,  came  to  the  carriage 
window  and  bade  her  look  up.  "  This  is  Periho  Lane," 
he  said,  "  whence  your  Grace  may  have  the  first  sight 
of  the  poor  house  which  is  to  have  the  honour  of  re- 
ceiving you." 

"  Perio  !  I  perish,"  repeated  Mary ;  "  an  ominous 
road." 

The  place  showed  itself  to  be  of  immense  strength. 
The  hollow  sound  caused  by  rolling  over  a  draw- 
bridge was  twice  heard,  and  the  carriage  crossed  two 
courts  before  stopping  at  the  foot  of  a  broad  flight  of 
stone  steps,  where  stood  Sir  William  Fitzwilliam  and 
Sir  Amias  Paulett  ready  to  hand  out  the  Queen. 

A  few  stone  steps  were  mounted,  then  an  enormous 
hall  had  to  be  traversed.  The  little  procession  had 
formed  in  pairs,  and  Humfrey  was  able  to  give  his 
hand  to  Cicely  and  walk  with  her  along  tlie  vast  space, 
on  which  many  windows  emblazoned  with  coats  of  arms 
shed  their  light — the  western  ones  full  of  the  bright 
September  sunshine.  One  of  these,  emblazoned  with  the 
royal  shield  in  crimson  mantlings,  cast  a  blood-red  stain 
on  the  white  stone  pavement.      Mary,  who  was  walking; 


442  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CILVP. 

first,  holding  by  the  arm  of  Sir  Andrew  Melville, 
paused,  shuddered,  pointed,  and  said,  "  See,  Andrew, 
there  will  my  blood  be  shed." 

"  Madam,  madam  !  speak  not  thus.  By  the  help 
of  the  saints  you  will  yet  win  through  your  troubles." 

"  Ay,  Andrew,  but  only  by  one  fate  ; "  and  she 
looked  upwards. 

Her  faithful  followers  could  not  Ijut  notice  that 
there  was  no  eager  assurance  that  no  ill  was  intended 
her,  such  as  they  had  often  heard  from  Shrewsbury  and 
Sadler. 

Cicely  looked  at  Humfrey  with  widely-opened  eyes, 
and  the  half-breathed  question,  "What  does  it  mean  ?" 

He  shook  his  head  gravely  and  said,  "  I  cannot 
tell,"  but  he  could  not  keep  his  manner  from  betraying 
that  he  expected  the  worst. 

Meanwhile  Mary  was  conducted  on  to  her  apart- 
ments, up  a  stair  as  usual,  and  forming  another  side 
of  the  inner  court  at  right  angles  to  the  Hall.  There 
was  no  reason  to  complain  of  these,  Mary's  furniture 
having  as  usual  been  sent  forward  with  her  inferior 
servants,  and  arranged  by  them.  She  was  weary,  and 
sat  down  at  once  on  her  chair,  and  as  soon  as  Paulett 
had  gone  through  his  usual  formalities  with  even  more 
than  his  wonted  stiffness,  and  had  left  her,  she  said, 
"  I  see  what  we  are  come  here  for.  It  is  that  yonder 
hall  may  be  the  place  of  my  death." 

Cheering  assurances  and  deprecations  of  evil  augury 
were  poured  on  her,  but  she  put  them  aside,  saying, 
"  Nay,  my  friends,  trow  you  not  that  I  rejoice  in  the 
close  of  my  weary  captivity  ? " 

She  resumed  her  usual  habits  very  calmly,  as  far 
as  her  increased  rheumatism  would  permit,  and  showed 
anxiety  that  a  large  piece  of  embroidery  should  be 


XXXIV.]  FOTHERINGHAY.  443 

completed,  and  thus  about  a  fortnight  passed.  Then 
came  the  first  tolien  of  the  future.  Sir  Amias  Paulett, 
Sir  Walter  Mildmay,  and  a  notary,  sought  her  presence 
and  presented  her  with  a  letter  from  Queen  Elizabeth, 
informing  her  that  there  were  heavy  accusations 
against  her,  and  that  as  she  was  residing  under  the 
protection  of  the  laws  of  England,  she  must  be  tried 
by  those  laws,  and  must  make  answer  to  the  conmiis- 
sioners  appointed  for  the  purpose.  Mary  put  on  all 
her  queenly  dignity,  and  declared  that  she  would  never 
condescend  to  answer  as  a  subject  of  the  Queen  of 
England,  but  would  only  consent  to  refer  their  differ- 
ences to  a  tribunal  of  foreign  princes.  As  to  her 
being  under  the  protection  of  English  law,  she  had 
come  to  England  of  her  own  free  will,  and  had  been 
kept  there  a  prisoner  ever  since,  so  that  she  did  not 
consider  herself  p7^otected  by  the  law  of  England. 

Meanwhile  fresh  noblemen  commissioned  to  sit  on 
the  trial  arrived  day  by  day.  There  was  trampling  of 
horses  and  jingling  of  equipments,  and  the  captive 
suite  daily  heard  reports  of  fresh  arrivals,  and  saw 
glimpses  of  new  colours  and  badges  flitting  across  the 
court,  while  conferences  were  held  with  Mary  in  the 
hope  of  inducing  her  to  submit  to  the  English  juris- 
diction. She  was  sorely  perplexed,  seeing  as  she  did 
that  to  persist  in  her  absolute  refusal  to  be  bound  by 
English  law  would  be  prejudicial  to  her  claim  to  the 
English  crown,  and  being  also  assured  by  Burghley 
that  if  she  refused  to  plead  the  trial  would  still  take 
place,  and  she  would  be  sentenced  in  her  absence. 
Her  spirit  rose  at  this  threat,  and  she  answered 
disdainfully,  but  it  worked  with  her  none  the  less 
when  the  treasurer  had  left  her. 

"  Oh,"  she  cried  that  night,  "  woidd  but  Elizabeth 


444  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

be  content  to  let  me  resign  my  rights  to  my  son, 
making  them  secure  to  him,  and  then  let  me  retii'e  to 
some  convent  in  Lorraine,  or  in  Germany,  or  wherever 
she  would,  so  w^ould  I  never  trouble  her  more !" 

"Will  you  not  write  this  to  her?"  asked  Cicely. 

"  What  would  be  the  use  of  it,  child  ?  They  would 
tamper  with  the  letter,  pledging  me  to  what  I  never 
would  undertake.  I  know  how  they  can  cut  and 
garble,  add  and  take  away  !  Never  have  they  let  me 
see  or  speak  to  her  as  woman  to  woman.  All  I  have 
said  or  done  has  been  coloured." 

"  Mother,  I  would  that  I  could  go  to  her ;  Humfrey 
has  seen  and  spoken  to  her,  why  should  not  I?" 

"  Thou,  poor  silly  maid  !  They  would  drive  Cis 
Talbot  away  with  scorn,  and  as  to  Bride  Hepburn, 
why,  she  w"0uld  but  run  into  all  her  mother's  dangers." 

"  It  might  be  done,  and  if  so  I  will  do  it,"  said 
Cicely,  clasping  her  hands  together. 

"  No,  child,  say  no  more.  My  worn-out  old  life  is 
not  worth  the  risk  of  thy  young  freedom.  But  I  love 
thee  for  it,  mine  ain  bairnie,  mon  enfant  a  inoi.  If 
thy  brother  had  thy  spirit,  child " 

"  I  hate  the  thought  of  him  !  Call  him  not  my 
brother  !"  cried  Cicely  hotly.  "  If  he  were  worth  one 
brass  farthing  he  would  have  unfurled  the  Scottish 
lion  long  ago,  and  ridden  across  the  Border  to  deliver 
his  mother." 

"  And  how  many  do  you  think  would  have  followed 
that  same  lion?"  said  Mary,  sadly. 

"  Then  he  should  have  come  alone  with  his  good 
horse  and  his  good  sword  !" 

"  To  lose  both  crowns,  if  not  life !  No,  no,  lassie ;  he 
is  a  pawky  chiel,  as  they  say  in  the  north,  and  cares 
not  to  risk  aught  for  the  mother  he  hath  never  seen, 


XXXIV.]  FOTHERINGHAY.  445 

and  of  whom  he  hath  been  tau^^ht  to  believe  strano-e 
tales." 

The  more  the  Queen  said  in  excuse  for  the  in- 
difference of  her  son,  the  stronger  was  the  purpose 
that  grew  up  in  the  heart  of  the  daughter,  while 
fresh  commissioners  arrived  every  day,  and  further 
conversations  were  held  with  the  Queen.  Lord 
Shrewsbury  was  known  to  be  summoned,  and  Cicely 
spent  half  her  time  in  watching  for  some  well-known 
face,  in  the  hope  that  he  might  bring  her  good  foster- 
father  in  his  train.  More  than  once  she  declared  that 
she  saw  a  cap  or  sleeve  with  the  well-beloved  silver  dog, 
when  it  turned  out  to  be  a  wyvern  or  the  royal  lion  him- 
self. Queen  Mary  even  laughed  at  her  for  thinking  her 
mastiff  had  gone  on  his  hind  legs  when  she  once  even 
imafrined  him  in  the  Warwick  Bear  and  ragged  staff. 

At  last,  however,  all  unexpectedly,  while  the  Queen 
was  in  conference  with  Hatton,  there  came  a  message 
by  the  steward  of  the  household,  that  Master  Eichard 
Talbot  had  arrived,  and  that  permission  had  been 
granted  by  Sir  Amias  for  him  to  speak  with  Mistress 
Cicely.  She  sj)rang  up  joyously,  but  Mrs.  Kennedy 
demurred. 

"  Set  him  up  !"  quoth  she.  "  My  certie,  things  are 
come  to  a  pretty  pass  that  any  one's  permission  save 
her  Majesty's  should  be  speired  for  one  of  her  women, 
and  I  wonder  that  you,  my  mistress,  should  be  the 
last  to  think  of  her  honour !" 

"  0  Mrs.  Kennedy,  dear  Mrs.  Jean,"  entreated 
Cicely,  "  hinder  me  not.  If  I  wait  till  I  can  ask  her, 
I  may  lose  my  sole  hope  of  speaking  with  him.  I 
know  she  would  not  be  displeased,  and  it  imports, 
indeed  it  imports." 

"  Come,  Mrs.  Kennett,"  said  the  steward,  who  by 


446  UNKNOWN  TO  IIISTOEY.  [CHAP. 

no  means  shared  liis  master's  sourness,  "  if  it  were  a 
young  gallant  that  craved  to  see  thy  fair  mistress,  I 
could  see  why  you  should  doubt,  but  beiug  her  father 
and  brother,  there  can  surely  be  no  objection." 

"  The  young  lady  knows  what  I  mean,"  said  the 
old  gentlewoman  with  great  dignity,  "  but  if  she  will 
answer  it  to  the  Queen " 

"  I  will,  1  will,"  cried  Cicely,  whose  colour  had 
risen  with  eagerness,  and  she  was  immediately  mar- 
shalled by  the  steward  beyond  the  door  that  closed  in 
the  royal  captive's  suite  of  apaftments  to  a  gallery. 
At  the  door  of  communication  three  yeomen  were 
always  placed  under  an  officer.  Humfrey  was  one  of 
those  who  took  turns  to  command  this  guard,  but  he 
was  not  now  on  duty.  lie  was,  however,  standing 
beside  his  father  awaiting  Cicely's  coming. 

Eagerly  she  moved  up  to  Master  Eichard,  bent  her 
knee  for  his  blessing,  and  raised  her  face  for  his 
paternal  kiss  with  the  same  fond  gladness  as  if  she 
had  been  his  daughter  in  truth.  He  took  one  hand, 
and  Humfrey  the  other,  and  they  followed  the  steward, 
who  had  promised  to  procure  them  a  private  interview, 
so  difficult  a  matter,  in  the  fulness  of  the  castle,  that 
he  had  no  place  to  offer  them  save  the  deep  embrasure 
of  a  great  oriel  window  at  the  end  of  the  gallery. 
They  would  be  seen  there,  but  there  was  no  fear  of 
their  being  heard  without  their  own  consent,  and  till 
the  chapel  bell  rang  for  evening  prayers  and  sermoi\ 
there  would  be  no  interruption.  And  as  Cicely  found 
herself  seated  between  Master  Eichard  and  the  win- 
dow, with  Humfrey  opposite,  she  was  sensible  of  a 
repose  and  lien  etre  she  had  not  felt  since  she  quitted 
Bridgefield.  She  had  already  heard  on  the  way  that 
all  was  well  there,  and  that  my  Lord  was  not  come, 


XXXIV.]  rOTHERINGHAY.  447 

though  named  in  the  commission  as  being  Earl  Marshal 
of  England,  sending  his  kinsman  of  Bridgefield  in  his 
stead  with  letters  of  excuse. 

"  In  sooth  he  cannot  bear  to  come  and  sit  in  judg- 
ment on  one  he  hath  known  so  long  and  closely,"  said 
Eichard ;  "  but  he  hath  bidden  me  to  come  lather  and 
remain  so  as  to  bring  him  a  full  report  of  all." 

"How  doth  my  Lady  Countess  take  that?"  asked 
Humfrey. 

"  I  question  whether  the  Countess  would  let  him 
go  if  he  wished  it.  She  is  altogether  changed  in 
mind,  and  come  round  to  her  first  love  for  this  Lady, 
declaring  that  it  is  all  her  Lord's  fault  that  the  custody 
was  taken  from  them,  and  that  she  could  and  would 
have  liindered  all  this." 

"  That  may  be  so,"  said  Humfrey.  "  If  all  be  true 
that  is  whispered,  there  have  been  dealings  which  would 
not  have  been  possible  at  Sheffield." 

"  So  it  may  be.  In  any  wise  my  Lady  is  bitterly 
grieved,  and  they  send  for  thy  mother  every  second  day 
to  pacify  her." 

"Dear  mother!"  murmured  Cis;  "when  shall  I  see 
her  again  ? " 

"  I  would  that  she  had  thee  for  a  little  space,  my 
wench,"  said  Eichard  ;  "  thou  hast  lost  thy  round  ruddy 
cheeks.      Hast  been  sick  ?" 

"  Nay,  sir,  save  as  we  all  are — sick  at  heart !  But 
all  seems  well  now  you  are  here.  Tell  me  of  little 
JSTed.      Is  he  as  good  scholar  as  ever  ? " 

"  Verily  he  is.  We  intend  by  God's  blessing  to 
bring  him  up  for  the  ministry.  I  hope  in  another 
year  to  take  him  to  Cambridge.  Thy  mother  is  knit- 
ting his  hosen  of  gray  and  black  already." 

Other  questions  and  answers  followed  about  Bridge- 


448  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

field  tidings,  which  still  evidently  touched  Cicely  as 
closely  as  if  she  had  been  a  born  Talbot.  There  was  a 
kind  of  rest  in  dwelling  on  these  before  coming  to  the 
sadder,  more  pressing  concern  of  her  other  life.  It  was 
not  till  the  slow  striking  of  the  Castle  clock  warned 
them  that  they  had  less  than  an  hour  to  spend  together 
that  they  came  to  closer  matters,  and  Eichard  transferred 
to  Cicely  those  last  sad  messages  to  her  Queen,  which 
he  had  undertaken  for  Babington  and  Tichborne. 

"  The  Queen  hath  shed  many  tears  for  them,"  she 
said,  "  and  hath  writ  to  the  French  and  Spanish  am- 
bassadors to  have  masses  said  for  them.  Poor  Antony  ! 
Did  he  send  no  w^ord  to  me,  dear  father  ?" 

The  man  being  dead,  Mr.  Talbot  saw  no  objection 
to  telling  her  how  he  had  said  he  had  never  loved  any 
other,  though  he  had  been  false  to  that  love. 

"Ah,  poor  Antony  !"  said  Cis,  with  her  grave  sim- 
plicity. "  But  it  would  not  have  been  right  for  me  to 
be  a  hindrance  to  the  marriage  of  one  who  could  never 
have  me." 

"  While  he  loved  you  it  would,"  said  Humfrey 
hastily.  "  Yea,"  as  she  lifted  up  her  eyes  to  him,  "  it 
would  so,  as  my  father  will  tell  you,  because  he  could 
not  truly  love  that  other  woman." 

Richard  smiled  sadly,  and  could  not  but  assent  to 
his  son's  honest  truth  and  faith. 

"  Then,"  said  Cis,  with  the  same  straightforward- 
ness, sprung  of  their  old  fraternal  intercourse,  "you 
must  quit  all  love  for  me  save  a  brother's,  Humfrey ; 
for  my  Queen  mother  made  me  give  her  my  word  on 
my  duty  never  to  wed  you." 

"  I  know,"  returned  Humfrey  calmly.  "  I  have 
known  all  that  these  two  years;  but  what  has  that  to 
do  with  my  love  ?" 


XXXIV.]  FOTHERINGHAY.  449 

"  Come,  come,  children,"  said  Eicbard,  hardening 
himself  though  his  eyes  were  moist ;  "  I  did  not  come 
here  to  hear  you  two  discourse  like  the  folks  in  a 
pastoral !  We  may  not  waste  time.  Tell  me,  child,  if 
thou  be  not  forbidden,  hath  she  any  purpose  for  thee  ?" 

"  0  sir,  I  fear  that  what  she  would  most  desire  is 
to  bestow  me  abroad  with  some  of  her  kindred  of 
Lorraine.  But  I  mean  to  strive  hard  against  it,  and 
pray  her  earnestly.  And,  father,  I  have  one  great 
purpose.  She  saith  that  these  cruel  statesmen,  who 
are  all  below  in  this  castle,  have  hindered  Queen 
Elizabeth  from  ever  truly  hearing  and  knowing  all,  and 
from  speaking  with  her  as  woman  to  woman.  Father, 
I  will  go  to  London,  I  will  make  my  way  to  the  Queen, 
and  when  she  hears  who  I  am — of  her  own  blood  and 
kindred — she  must  listen  to  me ;  and  I  will  tell  her 
what  my  mother  Queen  really  is,  and  how  cruelly  she 
has  been  played  upon,  and  entreat  of  her  to  see  her 
face  to  face  and  talk  with  her,  and  judge  whether  she 
can  have  done  all  she  is  accused  of." 

"  Thou  art  a  brave  maiden,  Cis,"  exclaimed  Humfrey 
with  deep  feeling. 

"  Will  you  take  me,  sir  ?"  said  Cicely,  looking  up  to 
Master  Eichard. 

"  Child,  I  cannot  say  at  once.  It  is  a  perilous 
purpose,  and  requires  much  to  be  thought  over." 

"  But  you  will  aid  me?"  she  said  earnestly. 

"  If  it  be  thy  duty,  woe  be  to  me  if  I  gainsay  thee," 
said  Eichard ;  "  but  there  is  no  need  to  decide  as  yet. 
We  must  await  the  issue  of  this  trial,  if  the  trial  ever 
take  place." 

"  Will  Cavendish  saith,"  put  in  Humfrey,  "  that  a 
trial  there  will  be  of  some  sort,  whether  the  Lady  con- 
sent to  plead  or  not." 

2  G 


450  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CIL^P. 

"  Until  that  is  ended  we  can  do  nothing,"  said  his 
father.  "Meantime,  Cicely  child,  we  shall  be  here  at 
hand,  and  be  sure  that  I  will  not  be  slack  to  aid  thee 
in  what  may  be  thy  duty  as  a  daughter.  So  rest  thee 
in  that,  my  wench,  and  pray  that  we  may  be  led  to 
know  the  right." 

And  Richard  spoke  as  a  man  of  high  moral  courage 
in  making  this  promise,  well  knowing  that  it  might 
involve  himself  in  great  danger.  The  worst  that  could 
befall  Cicely  might  be  imprisonment,  and  a  life  of  con- 
straint, jealously  watched ;  but  his  own  long  conceal- 
ment of  her  birth  might  easily  be  construed  into 
treason,  and  the  horrible  consequences  of  such  an  accu- 
sation were  only  too  fresh  in  his  memory.  Yet,  as  he 
said  afterwards  to  his  son,  "  There  was  no  forbidding 
the  maiden  to  do  her  utmost  for  her  own  mother, 
neither  was  there  any  letting  her  run  the  risk  alone." 

To  which  Humfrey  heartily  responded. 

"  The  Queen  may  forbid  her,  or  the  purpose  may 
pass  away,"  added  Eichard,  "  or  it  may  be  clearly  use- 
less and  impossible  to  make  the  attempt ;  but  I  cannot 
as  a  Christian  man  strive  to  dissuade  her  from  doing 
what  she  can.  And  as  thou  saidst,  Humfrey,  she  is 
changed.  She  hath  borne  her  modestly  and  discreetly, 
ay  and  truly,  through  all.  The  childishness  is  gone 
out  of  her,  and  I  mark  no  lightness  of  purpose  in  her." 

On  that  afternoon  Queen  Mary  announced  that  she 
had  yielded  to  Hatton's  representations  so  far  as  to 
consent  to  appear  before  the  Commissioners,  provided 
her  protest  against  the  proceedings  were  put  on  record. 

"  Nay,  blame  me  not,  good  ]\Ielville,"  she  said.  "  I 
am  wearied  out  with  their  arguments.  What  matters 
it  how  they  do  the  deed  on  which  they  are  bent  ?  It 
was  an  ill  thing  when  King  Harry  the  Eighth  brought 


XXXIV.]  FOTHEKINGHAY.  451 

in  tliis  fashion  of  forcing  the  law  to  give  a  colour  to 
his  will !  In  the  good  old  times,  the  blow  came  with- 
out being  first  baited  by  one  and  another,  and  made  a 
spectacle  to  all  men,  in  the  name  of  justice,  forsooth  ! " 

Mary  Seaton  faltered  something  of  her  Majesty's 
innocence  shining  out  like  the  light  of  day. 

"Flatter  not  thyself  so  far,  ma  viie"  said  Mary. 
"  Were  mine  innocence  clearer  than  the  sun  they  would 
blacken  it.  All  that  can  come  of  this  same  trial  is 
that  I  may  speak  to  posterity,  if  they  stifle  my  voice 
here,  and  so  be  known  to  have  died  a  martyr  to  my 
faith.  Get  we  to  our  prayers,  girls,  rather  than  feed 
on  vain  hopes      De  pvfundis  claniavi." 


-452  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CUAP 


CHATTEE   XXXV. 

BEFORE   THE    COMMISSIONEES. 

Who  would  be  permitted  to  witness  the  trial  ?  As 
small  matters  at  hand  eclipse  great  matters  farther  off, 
this  formed  the  immediate  excitement  in  Queen  Mary's 
little  household,  when  it  was  disclosed  that  she  was  to 
appear  only  attended  by  Sir  Andrew  Melville  and  her 
two  Maries  before  her  judges. 

The  vast  hall  had  space  enough  on  the  ground  for 
numerous  spectators,  and  a  small  gallery  intended  for 
musicians  was  granted,  with  some  reluctance,  to  the 
ladies  and  gentlemen  of  the  suite,  who,  as  Sir  Amias 
Paulett  observed,  could  do  no  hurt,  if  secluded  there. 
Thither  then  they  proceeded,  and  to  Cicely's  no  small 
delight,  found  Humfrey  awaiting  them  there,  partly  as 
a  guard,  partly  as  a  master  of  the  ceremonies,  ready  to 
explain  the  aiTangements,  and  tell  the  names  of  the 
personages  who  appeared  in  sight. 

"  There,"  said  he,  "  close  below  us,  where  you  can- 
not see  it,  is  the  chair  with  a  cloth  of  state  over  it." 

"  For  our  Queen  ? "  asked  Jean  Kennedy. 

"  No,  madam.  It  is  there  to  represent  the  Majesty 
of  Queen  Elizabeth.  That  other  chair,  half-way  down 
the  hall,  with  the  canopy  from  the  beam  over  it,  is  for 
the  Queen  of  Scots." 


XXXV.]  BEFORE  THE  COMMISSIONERS.  453 

Jean  Kennedy  sniffed  the  air  a  little  at  this,  but 
her  attention  was  directed  to  the  gentlemen  who  began 
to  fill  the  seats  on  either  side.  Some  of  them  had  be- 
fore had  interviews  with  Queen  Mary,  and  thus  were 
known  by  sight  to  her  own  attendants  ;  some  had  been 
seen  by  Humfrey  during  his  visit  to  London  ;  and  even 
now  at  a  great  distance,  and  a  different  table,  he  had 
been  taking  his  meals  with  them  at  the  present  juncture. 

The  seats  were  long  benches  against  the  Avail,  for 
the  Earls  on  one  side,  the  Barons  on  the  other.  The 
Lord  Chancellor  Bromley,  in  his  red  and  white  gown, 
and  Burghley,  the  Lord  Treasurer,  with  long  white 
beard  and  hard  impenetrable  face,  sat  with  them. 

"  That  a  man  should  have  such  a  beard,  and  yet 
dare  to  speak  to  the  Queen  as  he  did  two  days  ago," 
whispered  Cis. 

"  See,"  said  Mrs.  Kennedy,  "  who  is  that  burly 
figure  with  the  black  eyes  and  grizzled  beard  ?" 

"  That,  madam,"  said  Humfrey,  "  is  the  Earl  of 
Warwick." 

"  The  brother  of  the  minion  Leicester  ? "  said  Jean 
Kennedy.      "  He  hath  scant  show  of  his  comeliness." 

"  Nay ;  they  say  he  is  become  the  best  favoured," 
said  Humfrey ;  "  my  Lord  of  Leicester  being  grown 
heavy  and  red-faced.  He  is  away  in  the  Nether- 
lands, or  you  might  judge  of  him." 

"  And  who,"  asked  the  lady,  "  may  be  yon,  with  the 
strangely-plumed  hat  and  long,  yellow  hair,  like  a  half- 
tamed  Borderer?" 

"He?"  said  Humfrey.  "He  is  my  Lord  of  Cum- 
berland. I  marvelled  to  see  him  back  so  soon.  He  is 
here,  there,  and  everywhere  ;  and  when  I  was  in  Lon- 
don was  commanding  a  fleet  bearing  victuals  to  relieve 
the  Dutch  in  Helvoetsluys.      Had  I  not  other  work  in 


454  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [cHAP. 

liaud,  I  wo\ild  gladly  sail  with  him,  though  there  be 
something  fantastic  in  his  humour.  But  here  come  the 
Knights  of  the  Privy  Council,  who  are  to  my  mind 
more  noteworthy  than  the  Earls." 

The  seats  of  these  knights  were  placed  a  little  below 
and  beyond  those  of  the  noblemen.  The  courteous  Sir 
Ealf  Sadler  looked  up  and  saluted  the  ladies  in  the 
gallery  as  he  entered.  "  He  was  always  kindly,"  said 
Jean  Kennedy,  as  she  returned  the  bow.  "  I  am  glad 
to  see  him  here." 

"  But  oh,  Humfrey !"  cried  Cicely,  "  who  is  yonder, 
with  the  short  cloak  standing  on  end  with  pearls,  and 
the  quilted  satin  waistcoat,  jewelled  ears,  and  frizzed 
head  ?  He  looks  fitter  to  lead  off  a  dance  than  a 
trial." 

"  He  is  Sir  Christopher  Hatton,  her  Majesty's  Vice- 
Chamberlain,"  replied  Humfrey. 

"  Who,  if  rumour  saith  true,  made  his  fortune  by  a 
galliard,"  said  Dr.  Bourgoin. 

"  Here  is  a  contrast  to  him,"  said  Jean  Kennedy. 
"See  that  figure,  as  puritanical  as  Sir  Amias  himself,  with 
the  long  face,  scant  beard,  black  skull-cap,  and  plain 
crunped  ruff.  His  visage  is  pulled  into  so  solemn  a 
length  that  were  we  at  home  in  Edinburgh,  I  should 
expect  to  see  him  ascend  a  pulpit,  and  deliver  a  screed 
to  us  all  on  the  iniquities  of  dancing  and  playing  on 
the  lute !" 

"  That,  madam,"  said  Humfrey,  "  is  Mr.  Secretaiy, 
Sir  Francis  Walsingham." 

Here  Elizabeth  Curll  leant  forward,  looked,  and 
shivered  a  little.  "  Ah,  Master  Humfrey,  is  it  in  that 
man's  power  that  my  poor  brother  lies  ?" 

"  'Tis  true,  madam,"  said  Humfrey ,"  but  indeed  you 
need  not  fear.      I  heard  from  Will  Ca\'endish  last  night 


XXXV.]  BEFORE  THE  COMMISSIONEKS.  455 

that  Mr.  Curll  is  well.  They  have  not  touched  either 
of  the  Secretaries  to  hurt  them,  and  if  aught  have  been 
avowed,  it  was  by  Monsieur  Nau,  and  that  on  the 
mere  threat.  Do  you  see  old  Will  yonder,  Cicely,  just 
within  Mr.  Secretary's  call — with  the  poke  of  papers 
and  the  tablet  ?" 

"  Is  that  Will  Cavendish  ?  How  precise  and  stiff 
he  hath  grown,  and  why  doth  he  not  look  up  and  gi-eet 
us  ?  He  knoweth  ns  far  better  than  doth  Sir  Ealf 
Sadler ;  dotli  he  not  know  we  are  here  ? " 

"  Ay,  Mistress  Cicely,"  said  Dr.  Bourgoiu  from  be- 
hind, "  but  the  young  gentleman  has  his  fortune  to 
make,  and  knows  better  than  to  look  on  the  seamy 
side  of  Court  favour." 

"  Ah  !  see  those  scarlet  robes,"  here  exclaimed  Cis. 
"Are  they  the  judges,  Humfrey  ?" 

"  Ay,  the  two  Chief-Justices  and  the  Chief  Baron  of 
the  Exchequer.  There  they  sit  in  front  of  the  Earls, 
and  three  more  judges  in  front  of  the  Barons." 

"  And  there  are  more  red  robes  at  that  little  table 
in  front,  besides  the  black  ones." 

"  Those  are  Doctors  of  Law,  and  those  in  black  with 
coifs  are  the  Attorney  and  Solicitor  General.  The  rest 
are  clerks  and  writers  and  the  like." 

"  It  is  a  mighty  and  fearful  array,"  said  Cicely  witli 
a  long  breath. 

"A  mighty  comedy  wherewith  to  mock  at  justice," 
said  Jean. 

"  Prudence,  madam,  and  caution,"  suggested  Dr. 
Bourgoin.      "And  hush!" 

"  A  crier  here  sliouted  aloud,  "  Oyez,  oyez,  oyez ! 
Mary,  Queen  of  Scotland  and  Dowager  of  France,  come 
into  the  Court !" 

Then   from   a  door  in  the  centre,  leaning  on    Sir 


45(5  UNKNOWN  TO  HI8T0IIY.  [CHAP. 

Andrew  Melville's  arm,  came  forward  the  Queen,  in  a 
black  velvet  dress,  her  long  transparent  veil  hanging 
over  it  from  her  cap,  and  followed  by  the  two  Maries,  one 
carrying  a  crimson  velvet  folding-chair,  and  the  other 
a  footstool.  She  turned  at  first  towards  the  throne,  but 
she  was  motioned  aside,  and  made  to  perceive  that  her 
place  was  not  there.  She  drew  her  slender  figure  up 
with  offended  dignity.  "  I  am  a  queen,"  she  said  ;  "  I 
married  a  king  of  France,  and  my  seat  ought  to  be 
there." 

However,  with  this  protest  she  passed  on  to  her 
appointed  place,  looking  sadly  round  at  the  assembled 
judges  and  lawyers. 

"  Alas !"  she  said,  "  so  many  counsellors,  and  not 
one  for  me." 

Were  there  any  Englishmen  there  besides  Eichard 
Talbot  and  his  son  who  felt  the  pathos  of  this  appeal  ? 
One  defenceless  woman  against  an  array  of  the  legal 
force  of  the  whole  kingdom.  It  may  be  feared  that 
the  feelings  of  most  were  as  if  they  had  at  last  secured 
some  wild,  noxious,  and  incomprehensible  animal  iu 
their  net,  on  whose  struggles  they  looked  with  the  un- 
pitying  eye  of  the  hunter. 

The  Lord  Chancellor  began  by  declaring  that  the 
Queen  of  England  convened  the  Court  as  a  duty  in  one 
who  might  not  bear  the  sword  in  vain,  to  examine  into 
the  practices  against  her  own  life,  giving  the  Queen  of 
Scots  the  opportunity  of  clearing  herself. 

At  the  desire  of  Burghley,  the  commission  was  read 
by  the  Clerk  of  the  Court,  and  Mary  then  made  her 
public  protest  against  its  legality,  or  power  over  her. 

It  was  a  wonderful  thing,  as  those  spectators  in  the 
gallery  felt,  to  see  how  brave  and  how  acute  was  the 
defence  of  that  solitary  lady,  seated  there  with  all  those 


XXX. v.]  BEFORE  THE  COMMISSIONERS.  457 

learned  men  against  her;  her  papers  gone,  nothing  left 
to  her  but  her  brain  and  her  tongue.  No  loss  of  dig- 
nity nor  of  gentleness  was  shown  in  her  replies  ; .  they 
were  always  simple  and  direct.  The  difficulty  for  her 
was  all  the  greater  that  she  had  not  been  allowed  to 
know  the  form  of  the  accusation,  before  it  was  hurled 
against  her  in  full  force  by  Mr.  Serjeant  Gawdy,  who 
detailed  the  whole  of  the  conspiracy  of  Ballard  and 
Babington  in  all  its  branches,  and  declared  her  to  have 
known  and  approved  of  it,  and  to  have  suggested  the 
manner  of  executing  it. 

Breathlessly  did  Cicely  listen  as  the  Queen  rose  up. 
Humfrey  watched  her  almost  more  closely  than  the 
royal  prisoner.  When  there  was  a  denial  of  all  know- 
ledge or  intercourse  with  Ballard  or  Babington,  Jean 
Kennedy's  hard-lined  face  never  faltered ;  but  Cicely's 
brows  came  together  in  concern  at  the  mention  of 
the  last  name,  and  did  not  clear  as  the  Queen  ex- 
plained that  though  many  Catholics  might  indeed  write 
to  her  with  offers  of  service,  she  could  have  no  know- 
ledge of  anything  they  might  attempt.  To  confute 
this,  extracts  from  their  confessions  were  read,  and 
likewise  that  letter  of  Babiugton's  which  he  had 
written  to  her  detailing  liis  plans,  and  that  lengthy 
answer,  brought  by  the  blue-coated  serving-man,  in 
which  the  mode  of  carrying  her  off  from  Chartley  was 
suggested,  and  which  had  the  postscript  desiring  to 
know  the  names  of  the  six  who  were  to  remove  the 
usurping  competitor. 

The  Queen  denied  this  letter  flatly,  declaring  that 
it  might  have  been  written  with  her  alphabet  of 
ciphers,  but  was  certainly  none  of  hers.  '■  There  may 
have  been  designs  against  the  Queen  and  for  procuring 
my  liberty,"  she  said,  "  but  I,  shut  up  in  close  prison, 


458  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP 

was  not  aware  of  them,  and  how  can  I  be  made  to 
answer  for  them  ?  Only  lately  did  I  receive  a  letter 
asking  my  pardon  if  schemes  were  made  on  my  behalf 
without  my  privity,  nor  can  anything  be  easier  than 
to  counterfeit  a  cipher,  as  was  lately  proved  by  a 
youi]g  man  in  France.  Verily,  I  greatly  fear  that  if 
these  same  letters  were  traced  to  their  deviser,  it 
would  prove  to  be  the  one  who  is  sitting  here.  Think 
you,"  she  added,  turning  to  Walsingham,  "  think  you, 
Mr.  Secretary,  that  I  am  ignorant  of  your  devices  used 
so  craftily  against  me  ?  Your  spies  surrounded  me  on 
every  side,  but  you  know  not,  perhaps,  that  some  of 
your  spies  have  been  false  and  brought  intelligence  to 
me.  And  if  such  have  been  his  dealings,  my  Lords," 
she  said,  appealing  to  the  judges  and  peers,  "  how  can 
I  be  assured  that  he  hath  not  counterfeited  my  ciphers 
to  bring  me  to  my  death  ?  Hath  he  not  already 
practised  against  my  life  and  that  of  my  son  ?" 

Walsingham  rose  in  his  place,  and  lifting  up  his 
hands  and  eyes  declared,  "  I  call  God  to  record  that 
as  a  private  person  I  have  done  nothing  unbeseeming 
an  honest  man,  nor  as  a  public  person  have  I  done 
anything  to  dishonour  my  place." 

Somewhat  ironically  Mary  admitted  this  disavowal, 
and  after  some  unimportant  discussion,  the  Court 
adjourned  until  the  next  day,  it  being  already  late, 
according  to  the  early  habits  of  the  time. 

Cicely  had  been  entirely  carried  along  by  her 
mother's  pleading.  Tears  had  started  as  Queen  Mary 
wept  her  indignant  tears,  and  a  glow  had  risen  in  her 
cheeks  at  the  accusation  of  Walsingham.  Ever  and 
anon  she  looked  to  Humfrey's  face  for  sympathy,  but 
lie  sat  gravely  listening,  his  two  hands  clasped  over 
the  hilt  of  his  sword,  and  his  chin  resting  on  them,  as 


XXXV.]  BEFORE  THE  COMMISSIONERS.  459 

if  to  prevent  a  muscle  of  his  face  from  moving.  When 
they  rose  up  to  leave  the  galleries,  and  there  was  the 
power  to  say  a  word,  she  turned  to  him  earnestly, 

"A  piteous  sight,"  he  said,  "and  a  right  gallant 
defence." 

He  did  not  mean  it,  but  the  words  struck  like  lead 
on  Cicely's  heart,  for  they  did  not  amount  to  an 
acquittal  before  the  tribunal  of  his  secret  conviction, 
any  more  than  did  Walsingham's  disavowal,  for  who 
could  tell  what  Mr.  Secretary's  conscience  did  think 
unbecoming  to  his  office  ? 

Cicely  found  her  mother  on  her  couch  giving  a  free 
course  to  her  tears,  in  the  reaction  after  the  strain  and 
effort  of  her  defence.  Melville  and  the  Maries  were 
assuring  her  that  she  had  most  bravely  confuted  her 
enemies,  and  that  she  had  only  to  hold  on  with  equal 
courage  to  the  end.  Mrs.  Kennedy  and  Dr.  Bourgoin 
came  in  to  join  in  the  same  encouragements,  and  the 
commendation  evidently  soothed  her.  "  However  it 
may  end,"  she  said,  "  Mary  of  Scotland  shall  not  go 
down  to  future  ages  as  a  craven  spirit.  But  let  us 
not  discuss  it  further,  my  dear  friends,  my  head  aches, 
and  I  can  bear  no  further  word  at  present." 

Dr.  Bourgoin  made  her  take  some  food  and  then 
lie  down  to  rest,  while  in  an  outer  room  a  lute  was 
played  and  a  low  soft  song  was  sung.  She  had  not 
slept  all  the  previous  night,  but  she  fell  asleep,  hold- 
ing the  hand  of  Cicely,  who  was  on  a  cushion  by  her 
side.  The  girl,  having  been  likewise  much  disturbed, 
slept  too,  and  only  gradually  awoke  as  her  mother  was 
sitting  up  on  her  couch  discussing  the  next  day's 
defence  with  Melville  and  Bourgoin. 

"  I  fear  me,  madam,  there  is  no  holding  to  the  pro- 
fession of  entire  ignorance,"  said  Melville. 


460  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

"  They  have  no  letters  from  Babington  to-  me  to 
show,"  said  the  Queen.  "  I  took  care  of  thxit  by  the 
help  of  this  good  bairn.  I  can  defy  them  to  produce 
the  originals  out  of  all  my  ransacked  cabinets." 

"  They  have  the  copies  both  of  them  and  of  your 
Majesty's  replies,  and  Nau  and  Curll  to  verify  them." 

"  What  are  copies  worth,  or  what  are  dead  and 
tortured  men's  confessions  worth  ?"  said  Mary. 

"  Were  your  Majesty  a  private  person  they  would 
never  be  accepted  as  evidence,"  said  Melville;  "but " 

"  But  because  I  am  a  Queen  and  a  Catholic  there 
is  no  justice  for  me,"  said  Mary.  "  Well,  what  is  the 
defence  you  would  have  me  confine  myself  to,  my  sole 
privy  counsellors  ?" 

Here  Cis,  to  show  she  was  awake,  pressed  her 
mother's  hand  and  looked  up  in  her  face,  but  Mary, 
though  returning  the  glance  and  the  pressure,  did  not 
send  her  away,  while  Melville  recommended  strongly 
that  the  Queen  should  continue  to  insist  on  the  im- 
perfection of  the  evidence  adduced  against  her,  which 
he  said  might  so  touch  some  of  the  lawyers,  or  the 
nobles,  that  Burghley  and  Walsingham  might  be  afraid 
to  proceed.  If  this  failed  her,  she  must  allow  her 
knowledge  of  the  plot  for  her  own  escape  and  the 
Spanish  invasion,  but  strenuously  deny  the  part  which 
concerned  Elizabeth's  life. 

"  That  it  is  which  they  above  all  desire  to  fix  on 
me,"  said  the  Queen. 

Cicily's  brain  was  in  confusion.  Surely  she  had 
heard  those  letters  read  in  the  hall.  Were  they  false 
or  genuine  ?  The  Queen  had  utterly  denied  them 
there.  Now  slie  seemed  to  think  the  only  point  was 
to  prove  that  these  were  not  the  originals.  Dr.  Bour- 
goin  seemed  to  feel  the  same  difiticulty. 


XXXV.]  BEFOKE  THE  COMMISSIONERS.  461 

"M.idame  will  pardon  me,"  he  said;  "I  have  not 
been  of  her  secret  councils,  but  can  she  not,  if  rightly 
dealt  with,  prove  those  two  letters  that  were  read  to 
have  been  forged  by  her  enemies  ?" 

"  What  I  could  do  is  this,  my  good  Bourgoiu," 
said  Mary  ;  "  were  I  only  confronted  with  Nau  and 
Curll,  I  could  prove  that  the  letter  I  received  from 
Babington  bore  nothing  about  the  destroying  the 
usurping  competitor.  The  poor  faithful  lad  was  a 
fool,  but  not  so  great  a  fool  as  to  tell  me  such  tilings. 
And,  on  the  other  hand,  hath  either  of  you,  my  friends, 
ever  seen  in  me  such  symptoms  of  midsummer  mad- 
ness as  that  I  should  be  asking  the  names  of  the  six 
who  were  to  do  the  deed  ?  What  cared  I  for  their 
names  ?  I — who  only  wished  to  know  as  little  of  the 
matter  as  possible !" 

"  Can  your  Majesty  prove  that  you  knew  nothing  ?" 
asked  Melville. 

Mary  paused.  "  They  cannot  prove  by  fair  means 
that  I  knew  anything,"  said  she,  "  for  I  did  not.  Of 
course  I  was  aware  that  Elizabeth  must  be  taken  out 
of  the  way,  or  the  heretics  would  be  rallying  round 
her ;  but  there  is  no  lack  of  folk  who  delight  in  work 
of  that  sort,  and  why  should  I  meddle  with  the  know- 
ledge ?  With  the  Prince  of  Parma  in  London,  sha,  if 
she  hath  the  high  courage  she  boasteth  of,  would  soon 
cause  the  Spanish  pikes  to  us8  small  ceremony  with 
her  !  Why  should  I  concern  myself  about  poor  Antony 
and  his  five  gentlemen  ?  But  it  is  the  same  as  it  was 
twenty  years  ago.  What  I  know  will  have  to  be,  and 
yet  choose  not  to  hear  of,  is  made  the  head  and  front 
of  mine  offending,  that  the  real  actors  may  go  free  ! 
A.nd  because  I  have  writ  naught  that  they  can  bring 
against  me,  they  take  my  letters  and  add  to  and  garblo 


462  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAR 

tliem,  till  none  knows  where  to  have  them.  Would 
that  we  were  in  France  !  There  it  w^as  a  good  sword-cut 
or  pistol-sliot  at  once,  and  one  took  one's  chance  of  a 
return,  without  all  this  hypocrisy  of  law  and  justice  to 
weary  one  out  and  make  men  double  traitors." 

"Methought  Walsingham  winced  when  your  Ma- 
jesty went  to  the  point  with  hun,"  said  Bourgoin. 

"  And.  you  put  up  with  his  explanation  ? "  said 
Melville. 

"  Truly  I  longed  to  demand  of  what  practices  Mr. 
Secretary  in  his  office, — not  as  a  private  person — 
would  be  ashamed ;  but  it  seemed  to  me  that  they 
might  call  it  womanish  spite,  and  to  that  the  Queen  of 
Scots  will  never  descend  !" 

"  Pity  but  that  we  had  Babington's  letter  !  Then 
might  we  put  him  to  confusion  by  proving  the  addi- 
tions," said  Melville. 

"  It  is  not  possible,  my  good  friend.  The  letter  is 
at  the  bottom  of  the  Castle  well ;  is  it  not,  mignonne  ? 
Mourn  for  it  not,  Andrew.  It  would  have  been  of 
little  avail,  and  it  carried  with  it  stuff  that  Mr.  Secre- 
tary would  give  almost  his  precious  place  to  possess, 
and  that  might  be  fatal  to  more  of  us.  I  hoped  that 
there  might  have  been  safety  for  poor  Babington  in 
the  destruction  of  that  packet,  never  guessing  at  the 
villainy  of  yon  Burton  brewer,  nor  of  those  who  set 
him  on.  Come,  it  serves  not  to  fret  ourselves  any 
more.  I  must  answer  as  occasion  serves  me ;  speaking 
not  so  much  to  Elizabeth's  Commission,  who  have  fore- 
doomed me,  as  to  all  Christendom,  and  to  the  Scots 
and  English  of  all  ages,  who  will  be  my  judges." 

Her  judges  ?  Ay  !  but  how  ?  With  the  same 
enthusiastic  pity  and  indignation,  mixed  with  the  same 
misgiving  as  her  own  daughter  fel(T.     Not  wholly  inno- 


XXXV.]  BEFOEE  THE  COMMISSIONERS.  463 

cent,  not  wholly  guilty,  yet  far  less  guilty  than  those 
who  had  laid  their  own  crimes  on  her  in  Scotland,  or 
who  plotted  to  involve  her  in  meshes  partly  woven  by 
herself  in  England.  The  evil  done  to  her  was  fi-ightful, 
but  it  would  have  been  powerless  had  she  been  wholly 
blameless.      Alas  !  is  it  not  so  with  all  of  us  ? 

The  second  day's  trial  came  on.  Mary  Seaton  was 
so  overpowered  with  the  strain  she  had  gone  through 
that  the  Queen  would  not  take  her  into  the  hall,  but 
let  Cicely  sit  at  her  feet  instead.  On  this  day  none  of 
the  Crown  lawyers  took  part  in  the  proceedings ;  for, 
^s  Cavendish  whispered  to  Humfrey,  there  had  been 
high  words  between  them  and  my  Lord  Treasurer  and 
Mr.  Secretary ;  and  they  had  declared  themselves  in- 
capable of  conducting  a  prosecution  so  inconsistent 
with  the  forms  of  law  to  which  they  were  accustomed. 
The  pedantic  fellows  wanted  more  direct  evidence,  he 
said,  and  Humfrey  honoured  them. 

Lord  Burghley  then  conducted  the  proceedings,  and 
they  had  thus  a  more  personal  character.  The  Queen, 
however,  acted  on  Melville's  advice,  and  no  longer 
denied  all  knowledge  of  the  conspiracy,  but  insisted 
that  she  was  ignorant  of  the  proposed  murder  of  Eliza- 
beth, and  argued  most  pertinently  that  a  copy  of  a 
deciphered  cipher,  without  the  original,  was  no  proof 
at  all,  desiring  further  that  Nau  and  Curll  should  be 
examined  in  her  presence.  She  reminded  the  Com- 
missioners how  their  Queen  herself  had  been  called  in 
question  for  Wyatt's  rebellion,  in  spite  of  her  inno- 
cence. "  Heaven  is  my  witness,"  she  added',  "  that 
much  as  I  desire  the  safety  and  glory  of  the  Catliolic 
religion,  I  would  not  purchase  it  at  the  price  of  blood. 
I  would  rather  play  Esther  than  Judith." 

Her  defence  was  completed  by  her  taking   off  the 


464  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

ring  wliich  Elizabeth  had  sent  to  her  at  Lochleven. 
"This,"  she  said,  hokling  it  up,  "your  Queen  sent  to 
nie  in  token  of  amity  and  protection.  You  best  know 
how  that  pledge  has  been  redeemed."  Therewith  she 
claimed  another  day's  hearing,  with  an  advocate  granted 
to  her,  or  else  that,  being  a  Princess,  she  might  be 
believed  on  the  word  of  a  Princess. 

This  completed  her  defence,  except  so  far  that  when 
Burghley  responded  in  a  speech  of  great  length,  she 
interrupted,  and  battled  point  by  point,  always  keeping 
in  view  the  strong  point  of  the  insufficient  evidence 
and  her  own  deprivation  of  the  chances  of  confuting 
what  was  adduced  against  her. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  he  concluded. 
There  was  a  pause,  as  though  for  a  verdict  by  the 
Commissioners.  Instead  of  this,  Mary  rose  and  re- 
peated her  appeal  to  be  tried  before  the  Parliament  of 
England  at  Westminster.  No  reply  was  made,  and 
the  Court  broke  up. 


XXX vl]  a  vejsturk  465 


CHAPTER    XXXVI. 

A    VENTURE. 

"  Mother,  dear  mother,  do  but  listen  to  me.** 

"  I  must  listen,  child,  when  thou  callest  me  so  from 
your  heart ;  but  it  is  of  no  use,  my  poor  little  one. 
They  have  referred  the  matter  to  the  Star  Chamber, 
that  they  may  settle  it  there  with  closed  doors  and  no 
forms  of  law.  Thou  couldst  do  nothing  !  And  could 
I  trust  thee  to  go  wandering  to  London,  like  a  maiden 
in  a  ballad,  all  alone  ?" 

"  Nay,  madam,  I  should  not  go  alone.  My  father, 
I  mean  Mr.  Talbot,  would  take  me." 

"  Come,  bairnie,  that  is  presuming  overmuch  on  the 
good  man's  kindness." 

"  I  do  not  speak  without  warrant,  madam.  I  told 
him  what  I  longed  to  do,  and  he  said  it  might  be  mv 
duty,  and  if  it  were  so,  he  would  not  gainsay  me ;  but 
that  he  could  not  let  me  go  alone,  and  would  go  with 
me.  And  he  can  get  access  for  me  to  the  Queen.  He 
has  seen  her  himself,  and  so  has  Humfrey  ;  and  Diccon 
is  a  gentleman  pensioner." 

"  There  have  been  ventures  enough  for  me  already," 
said  Mary.  "  I  will  bring  no  more  faithful  heads  into 
peril." 

"  Then  will  you  not  consent,  mother  ?  He  will 
2  H 


466  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

quit  the  castle  to-morrow,  and  I  am  to  see  him  in  the 
morning  and  give  him  an  answer.  If  you  would  let 
me  go,  he  would  crave  license  to  take  me  home,  saying 
that  I  look  paler  than  my  wont." 

"  And  so  thou  dost,  child.  If  I  could  be  sure  of 
ever  seeing  thee  again,  I  should  have  proposed  thy 
sjoincr  home  to  o'ood  Mistress  Susan's  tendance  for  a 
little  space.  But  it  is  not  to  be  thought  of.  I  could 
not  risk  thee,  or  any  honest  loving  heart,  on  so  des- 
perate a  stake  as  mine  !  I  love  thee,  mine  ain,  true, 
leal  lassie,  all  the  more,  and  I  honour  him  ;  but  it  may 
not  be  !     Ask  me  no  more." 

Mary  was  here  interrupted  by  a  request  from  Sir 
Christopher  Hatton  for  one  of  the  many  harassing 
interviews  that  beset  her  during  the  days  following  the 
trial,  when  judgment  was  withheld,  according  to  the 
express  command  of  the  vacillating  Elizabeth,  and  the 
case  remitted  to  the  Star  Chamber.  Lord  Burghley 
considered  this  hesitation  to  be  the  effect  of  judicial 
blindness — so  utterly  had  hatred  and  fear  of  the  future 
shut  liis  eyes  to  all  sense  of  justice  and  fair  play. 

Cicely  felt  all  youth's  disappointment  in  the  rejec- 
tion of  its  grand  schemes.  But  to  her  surprise  at  night 
Mary  addressed  her  again,  "  My  daughter,  did  that  true- 
hearted  foster-father  of  thine  speak  in  sooth  ? " 

"  He  never  doth  otherwise,"  returned  Cicely. 

"  For,"  said  her  mother,  "  I  have  thought  of  a  way 
of  gaining  thee  access  to  the  Queen,  far  less  perilous  to 
him,  and  less  likely  to  fail.  I  will  give  thee  letters  to 
M.  De  Chateauneuf,  the  French  Ambassador,  whom  I 
have  known  in  old  times,  with  full  credentials.  It 
might  be  well  to  have  with  thee  those  that  I  left  with 
Mistress  Talbot.  Then  he  will  gain  thee  admittance, 
and  work  for  thee  as  one  sent  from  Franco,  and  protected 


XXXVI.]  A  VENTURE.  4.07 

by  the  rights  of  the  Embassy.  Thus,  Master  Eichard 
need  never  appear  in  the  matter  at  all,  and  at  any 
rate  thou  wouldst  be  secure.  Chateauneuf  would  find 
means  of  sending  thee  abroad  if  needful." 

"  Oh  I  I  would  return  to  you,  madam  my  mother, 
or  wait  for  you  in  London." 

"  That  must  be  as  the  wills  above  decree,"  said  Mary 
sadly.  "  It  is  folly  in  me,  but  I  cannot  help  grasping  at 
the  one  hope  held  out  to  me.  There  is  that  within  me 
that  ivill  hope  and  strive  to  the  end,  though  I  am  using 
my  one  precious  jewel  to  weight  the  line  I  am  casting 
across  the  gulf.  At  least  they  cannot  do  thee  great 
harm,  my  good  child." 

The  Queen  sat  up  half  the  night  writing  letters,  one 
to  Elizabeth,  one  to  Chateauneuf,  and  another  to  the 
Duchess  of  Lorraine,  which  Cis  was  to  deliver  in  case 
of  her  being  sent  over  to  the  Continent.  But  the  Queen 
committed  the  conduct  of  the  whole  affair  to  M.  De 
Chateauneuf,  since  she  could  completely  trust  his  discre- 
tion and  regard  for  her  ;  and,  moreover,  it  was  possible 
that  the  face  of  affairs  might  undergo  some  great  altera- 
tion before  Cicely  could  reach  London.  Mr.  Talbot  must 
necessarily  go  home  first,  being  bound  to  do  so  by  his 
commission  to  the  Earl.  "  And,  hark  thee,"  said  the 
Queen,  "  what  becomes  of  the  young  gallant  ?" 

"  I  have  not  heard,  madam,"  said  Cicely,  not  liking 
the  tone. 

"  If  my  desires  still  have  any  effect,"  said  Mary, 
•'he  will  stay  here.  I  will  not  have  my  damosel 
errant  squired  by  a  youth  under  five-and-tweuty." 

"  I  promised  you,  madam,  and  he  wots  it,"  said 
Cicely,  with  spirit. 

"  He  wots  it,  doth  he  ?"  said  the  Queen,  in  rather  a 
provoking  voice.     "  No,  no,  mignonne;  with  all  respect 


468  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOKY.  [CHAP 

to  their  honour  and  discretion,  we  do  not  put  flint  auJ 
steel  together,  when  we  do  not  wish  to  kindle  a  fire. 
Nay,  little  one,  I  meant  not  to  vex  thee,  when  thou 
art  doing  one  of  the  noblest  deeds  daughter  ever  did 
for  mother,  and  for  a  mother  who  sent  thee  away  from 
her,  and  whom  thou  hast  scarce  known  for  more  than 
two  years !" 

Cicely  was  sure  to  see  her  foster-father  after  morn- 
ing prayers  on  the  way  from  the  chapel  across  the 
inner  court.  Here  she  was  able  to  tell  him  of  the 
Queen's  consent,  over  which  he  looked  grave,  having 
secretly  persuaded  himself  that  Mary  would  think  the 
venture  too  great,  and  not  hopeful  enough  to  be  made. 
He  could  not,  however,  wonder  that  the  unfortunate 
lady  should  catch  at  the  least  hope  of  preserving  her 
life  ;  and  she  had  dragged  too  many  down  in  the  whirl- 
pool to  leave  room  for  wonder  that  she  should  consent 
to  peril  her  own  daughter  therein.  Moreover,  he 
would  have  the  present  pleasure  of  taking  her  home 
with  him  to  his  Susan,  and  who  could  say  wliat  would 
happen  in  the  meantime  ? 

"  Tliou  hast  counted  the  cost  ?"  he  said. 

"  Yea,  sir,"  Cis  answered,  as  the  young  always  do  ; 
adding,  "  the  Queen  saitli  that  if  we  commit  all  to  the 
French  Ambassador,  M.  De  Chateauneuf,  who  is  her 
very  good  friend,  he  will  save  you  from  any  peril." 

"  Hm !  I  had  rather  be  beholden  to  no  French- 
man," muttered  Eichard,  "  but  we  will  see,  we  will  see. 
I  must  now  to  Paulett  to  obtain  consent  to  take  thee 
with  me.  Thou  art  pale  and  changed  enough  indeed 
to  need  a  blast  of  Hallamshire  air,  my  poor  maid." 

So  Master  Eichard  betook  him  to  the  knight,  a  man 
of  many  charges,  and  made  known  that  finding  his 
daughter    somewhat    puling    and    sickly,    he   wished, 


XXXVI.]  A  VENTURE.  4G9 

having,  as  she  tokl  him,  the  consent  of  the  Queen  of 
Scots,  to  take  her  home  with  him  for  a  time. 

"  You  do  well,  Mr.  Talhot,"  said  Sir  Amias.  "  In 
sooth,  I  have  only  marvelled  that  a  pious  and  godly  man 
like  you  should  have  consented  to  let  her  abide  so  long, 
at  her  tender  age,  among  these  papistical,  idolatrous, 
and  bloodthirsty  women." 

"  I  think  not  that  she  hath  taken  harm,"  said 
Richard. 

"  I  have  done  my  poor  best ;  I  have  removed  the 
priest  of  Baal,"  said  the  knight ;  "  I  have  caused  godly 
ministers  constantly  to  preach  sound  doctrine  in  the 
ears  of  all  who  would  hearken  ;  and  I  have  uplifted 
my  testimony  whensoever  it  was  possible.  But  it  is 
not  well  to  expose  the  young  to  touching  the  accursed 
tiling,  and  this  lady  hath  shown  herself  greatly  affected 
to  your  daughter,  so  that  she  might  easily  be  seduced 
from  the  truth.  Yet,  sir,  bethink  you  is  it  well  to  re- 
move the  maiden  from  witnessing  that  whicli  will  be  a 
warning  for  ever  of  the  judgment  that  falleth  on  con- 
spiracy and  idolatry?" 

"  You  deem  the  matter  so  certain  ?"  said  Ei chard. 

"  Beyond  a  doubt,  sir.  This  lady  will  never  leave 
these  walls  alive.  There  can  be  no  peace  for  England 
nor  safety  for  our  blessed  and  gracious  Queen  while  she 
lives.  Her  guilt  is  certain  ;  and  as  Mr.  Secretary  said 
to  me  last  night,  he  and  the  Lord  Treasurer  are  deter- 
mined that  for  no  legal  quil^bles,  nor  scruples  of  mercy 
from  our  ever -pitiful  Queen,  shall  she  now  escape. 
Her  Majesty,  however  her  womanisli  heart  may  doubt 
now,  will  rejoice  when  the  deed  is  done.  Methinks  I 
showed  you  the  letter  she  did  me  the  honour  to  write, 
thanking  me  for  the  part  I  took  in  conveying  the  lady 
suddenly  to  Tixall," 


470  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOEY.  [CHAP, 

Eicliartl  had  already  read  that  let*"sr  three  times,  so 
he  avowed  his  knowledcje  of  it. 

"You  will  not  remove  your  son  likewise?"  added 
Sir  Amias.  "  He  hath  an  acquaintance  with  this  lady's 
people,  which  is  useful  in  one  so  thoroughly  to  be 
trusted  ;  and  moreover,  he  will  not  be  tampered  with. 
For,  sir,  I  am  never  without  dread  of  some  attempt 
being  made  to  deal  with  this  lady  privily,  in  which 
case  I  should  be  the  one  to  bear  all  the  blame.  Where- 
fore I  have  made  request  to  have  another  honourable 
gentleman  joined  with  me  in  this  painful  wardship." 

Eichard  had  no  desire  to  remove  his  son.  He 
shared  Queen  Mary's  feelings  on  the  inexpediency  of 
Humfrey  forming  part  of  the  escort  of  the  young  lady, 
and  thouglit  it  was  better  for  both  to  see  as  little  of 
one  another  as  possible. 

Sir  Amias  accordingly,  on  his  morning  visit  of  in- 
spection, intimated  to  the  Queen  that  Mr.  Talbot  wished 
his  daughter  to  return  home  with  him  for  the  recovery 
of  her  health.  He  spoke  as  if  the  whole  suite  were  at 
his  own  disposal,  and  Mary  resented  it  in  her  dignified 
manner. 

"  The  young  lady  hath  already  requested  license 
from  us,"  she  said,  "  and  we  have  granted  it.  She  will 
return  when  her  health  is  fully  restored." 

Sir  Amias  had  forbearance  enough  not  to  hint  that 
unless  the  return  were  speedy,  she  would  scarcely  find 
the  Queen  there,  and  the  matter  was  settled.  Master 
Eichard  would  not  depart  until  after  dinner,  when  other 
gentlemen  were  going,  and  this  would  enable  Cicely  to 
make  up  her  mails,  and  there  would  still  be  time  to 
ride  a  stage  before  dark..  Her  own  horse  was  in  the 
stables,  and  her  goods  would  be  bestowed  in  cloak  bags 
on  the  saddles  of  the  grooms  who  had  accompanied  Mr. 


XXXVT.]  A  VENTURE.  47 1 

Talbot ;  for,  small  as  was  the  estate  of  Bridgefield,  for 
safety's  sake  he  could  not  have  gone  on  so  long  an 
expedition  without  a  sufficient  guard. 

The  intervening  time  was  spent  by  the  Queen  in 
instructing  her  daughter  how  to  act  in  various  con- 
tingencies. If  it  were  possible  to  the  French  Ambas- 
sador to  present  her  as  freshly  come  from  the  Soissons 
convent,  where  she  was  to  have  been  reared,  it  would 
save  Mr.  Talbot  from  all  risk ;  but  tlie  Queen  doubted 
whether  she  could  support  the  character,  so  English 
was  her  air,  though  there  vxre  Scottish  and  English 
nuns  at  Soissons,  and  still  more  at  Louvaine  and 
Douay,  who  might  have  brought  her  up. 

"  I  cannot  feign,  madam,"  said  Cicely,  alarmed.  "Oh, 
I  hope  I  need  only  speak  truth  !"  and  her  tone  sounded 
much  more  like  a  confession  of  incapacity  than  a 
moral  objection,  and  so  it  was  received  :  "  Poor  child, 
I  know  thou  canst  not  act  a  part,  and  thy  return  to 
the  honest  mastiffs  will  not  further  thee  in  it ;  but  I 
have  bidden  Chateauneuf  to  do  what  he  can  for  thee — 
and  after  all  the  eyes  will  not  be  very  critical." 

If  there  still  was  time,  Cicely  was  to  endeavour 
first  of  all  to  obtain  of  Elizabeth  that  Mary  might  be 
brought  to  London  to  see  her,  and  be  judged  before 
Parliament  with  full  means  of  defence.  If  this  were 
no  longer  possible,  Cicely  might  attempt  to  expose 
Walsingham's  contri^•ance  ;  but  this  would  probably 
be  too  dangerous.  Chateauneuf  must  judge.  Or,  as 
another  alternative,  Queen  Mary  gave  Cicely  the  ring 
already  shown  at  the  trial,  and  with  that  as  her  pledge, 
a  solemn  offer  was  to  be  made  on  her  behalf  to  retire 
into  a  convent  in  Austria,  or  in  one  of  the  Poman 
Catholic  cantons  of  Switzerland,  out  of  the  reach  of 
Spain  and  France,  and  there  take  the  veil,  resigning  all 


472  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP, 

her  rights  to  her  son.  All  her  money  had  been  taken 
away,  but  she  told  Cicely  she  had  given  orders  to 
Chateanneuf  to  supply  from  her  French  dowiy  all 
that  might  be  needed  for  the  expenses  that  must  be 
incurred. 

Now  that  the  matter  was  becoming  so  real,  Cicely's 
heart  quailed  a  little.  Castles  in  the  air  that  look 
heroic  at  the  first  glance  would  not  so  remain  did  not 
they  show  themselves  terrible  at  a  nearer  approach, 
and  the  maiden  wondered  whether  Queen  Elizabeth 
would  be  much  more  formidable  than  my  Lady 
Countess  in  a  rage  ! 

And  what  would  become  of  herself  ?  Would  she 
be  detained  in  the  bondage  in  which  the  poor  sisters  of 
the  Grey  blood  had  been  kept  ?  Or  would  her  mother 
carry  her  off  to  these  strange  lands  ?  ...  It  was  all 
strange,  and  the  very  boldness  of  her  offer,  since  it  had 
been  thus  accepted,  made  her  feel  helpless  and  passive 
in  the  grasp  of  the  powers  that  her  simple  wish  had 
set  moving. 

The  letters  were  sewn  up  in  the  most  ingenious 
manner  in  her  dress  by  Mary  Seaton,  in  case  any 
search  should  be  made;  but  the  only  woman  Sir 
Amias  would  be  able  to  employ  in  such  a  matter 
was  purblind  and  helpless,  and  they  trusted  much  to 
his  implicit  faith  in  the  Talbots. 

There  was  only  just  time  to  complete  her  prepara- 
tions before  she  was  summoned ;  and  with  an  almost 
convulsive  embrace  from  her  mother,  and  whispered 
benedictions  from  Jean  Kennedy,  she  left  the  dreary 
walls  of  Fotheringhay. 

JIumfrey  rode  with  them  through  the  Chase.  Both 
he  and  Cicely  were  very  silent.  When  the  time  came 
for  parting,  Cicely  said,  as  she  laid  her  hand   in  his, 


xxxvl]  a  venture.  473 

"  Dear  brother,  for  my  sake  do  all  thou  canst  for  her 
with  honour." 

"  That  will  I,"  said  Humfrey.  "  Would  that  I  were 
going  with  thee,  Cicely  !" 

"  So  would  not  I,"  she  returned ;  "  for  then  there 
would  be  one  true  heart  the  less  to  watch  over  her." 

"  Come,  daughter  !"  said  Ei chard,  who  had  engaged 
one  of  the  gentlemen  in  conversation  so  as  to  leave 
them  to  themselves.  "We  must  be  jogging.  Fare 
thee  well,  my  son,  till  such  time  as  thy  duties  permit 
thee  to  follow  us." 


474  UNKNOWi^  TO  lUbTOfiY.  [CHAP. 


CHAPTEE   XXXVIL 

MY   lady's    remorse. 

"  And  tave  you  brought  her  back  again  !  0  my  lass  ! 
my  lass  !"  cried  Mistress  Susan,  surprised  and  delighted 
out  of  her  usual  staid  composure,  as,  going  out  to  greet 
her  husband,  an  unexpected  figure  was  seen  by  his 
side,  and  Cicely  sprang  into  her  arms  as  if  they  were 
truly  a  haven  of  rest. 

Susan  looked  over  her  head,  even  in  the  midst  of 
the  embrace,  with  the  eyes  of  one  hungering  for  her 
first-born  son,  but  her  husband  shook  his  head.  "  No, 
mother,  we  have  not  brought  thee  the  boy.  Thou 
must  content  thyself  with  her  thou  hast  here  for  a 
little  space." 

"  I  hope  it  bodes  not  ill,"  said  Susan. 

"  It  bodes,"  said  Eichard,  "  that  I  have  brought 
thee  back  a  good  daughter  with  a  pair  of  pale  cheeks, 
which  must  be  speedily  coloured  anew  in  our  northern 
breezes." 

"  Ah,  how  sweet  to  be  here  at  home,"  cried  Cicely, 
turning  round  in  rapturous  greeting  to  all  the  serving 
men  and  women,  and  all  the  dogs.  "  We  want  only 
tlie  boys  !     Where  is  Ned  ?" 

Tlieir  arrival  having  been  unannounced,  Ned  was 
with  ]\Iaster  Sniggius,  whose  foremost  scholar  he  now 


XXXVII.]  MY  lady's  hemoese.  475 

was,  and  who  kept  him  much  later  than  the  other  lads 
to  prepare  him  for  Cambridge  ;  but  it  was  the  return  to 
this  tender  foster-mother  that  seemed  such  extreme 
bliss  to  Cicely.  All  was  most  unlike  her  reluctant 
return  two  years  previously,  when  nothing  but  her 
inbred  courtesy  and  natural  sweetness  of  disposition 
had  prevented  her  from  being  contemptuous  of  the 
country  home.  Now  every  stone,  every  leaf,  seemed 
precious  to  her,  and  she  showed  herself,  even  as  she 
ascended  the  steps  to  the  hall,  determined  not  to  be 
the  guest  but  the  daughter.  There  was  a  little  move- 
ment on  the  parents'  part,  as  if  they  bore  in  mind  that 
she  came  as  a  princess ;  but  she  flew  to  draw  up 
Master  Eichard's  chair,  and  put  his  wife's  beside  it,  nor 
would  she  sit,  till  they  had  prayed  her  to  do  so ;  and 
it  was  all  done  with  such  a  graceful  bearing,  the  noble 
carriage  of  her  head  had  become  so  much  more  remark- 
able, and  a  sweet  readiness  and  responsiveness  of  manner 
had  so  grown  upon  her,  that  Susan  looked  at  her  in 
wondering  admiration,  as  something  more  her  own  and 
yet  less  her  own  than  ever,  tracing  in  her  for  the  first 
time  some  of  the  charms  of  the  Queen  of  Scots. 

All  the  household  hovered  about  in  delight,  and 
confidences  could  not  be  exchanged  just  then :  the 
travellers  had  to  eat  and  drink,  and  they  were  only  just 
beoinniu"  to  do  so  when  Ned  came  home.  He  was  of 
slighter  make  than  his  brothers,  and  had  a  more 
scholarly  aspect :  but  his  voice  made  itself  heard  before 
him.  "  Is  it  true  ?  Is  it  true  that  my  father  is  come  ? 
And  our  Cis  too  ?  Ha!"  and  he  rushed  in,  hardly 
giving  himself  time  for  the  respectful  greeting  to  his 
father,  before  he  fell  upon  Cis  with  undoubting  brotherly 
delight, 

"  Is  Humfrey  come?"  he  asked  as  soon  as  he  could 


476  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

take  breath.  "  No  ?  I  thought  'twas  too  good  to  be 
all  true." 

"  How  did  you  hear  ?" 

"  Hob  the  hunter  brought  up  word  that  the 
Queen's  head  was  off.  What  ? "  as  Cicely  gave  a  start 
and  little  scream.     "  Is  it  not  so  ?" 

"  No,  indeed,  boy,"  said  his  father.  "  What  put 
that  folly  into  his  head?" 

"  Because  he  saw,  or  thought  he  saw,  Humfrey  and 
Cis  riding  home  with  you,  sir,  and  so  thought  all  was 
over  with  the  Queen  of  Scots.  My  Lady,  tliey  say, 
had  one  of  her  shrieking  fits,  and  my  Lord  sent  down 
to  ask  whether  I  knew  aught ;  and  when  he  found 
that  I  did  not,  would  have  me  go  home  at  once  to  bid 
you  come  up  immediately  to  the  Manor ;  and  before  I 
had  gotten  out  Dapple,  there  comes  another  message  to 
say  that,  in  as  brief  space  as  it  will  take  to  saddle  them, 
there  will  be  beasts  here  to  bring  up  you  and  my 
mother  and  Cis,  to  tell  my  Lady  Countess  all  that  has 
befallen." 

Cis's  countenance  so  changed  that  kind  Susan  said, 
"  I  will  make  thine  excuses  to  my  Lady.  Thou  art 
weary  and  ill  at  ease,  and  I  cannot  have  thee  set  forth 
at  once  again." 

"  The  Queen  would  never  have  sent  such  sudden 
and  hasty  ordei^,"  said  Cicely.  "  Mother,  can  you  not 
stay  with  me  ? — I  have  so  much  to  say  to  you,  and  my 
time  is  short." 

The  Talbots  were,  however,  too  much  accustomed 
to  obedience  to  the  peremptory  commands  of  their 
feudal  chiefs  to  venture  on  such  disobedience.  Susan's 
proposal  had  been  a  great  piece  of  audacity,  on  which 
she  would  hardly  have  ventured  but  for  her  conscious- 
ness that  tlie  maiden  was  no  Talbot  at  all. 


XXXVII.]  MY  lady's  kemokse.  477 

Yet  to  Cis  the  dear  company  of  her  mother  Susan, 
even  in  the  Countess's  society,  seemed  too  precious  to 
be  resigned,  and  she  had  likewise  been  told  that  Lady 
Shrewsbury's  mind  had  greatly  changed  towards  j\Iary, 
and  that  since  the  irritation  of  the  captive's  presence 
had  been  removed,  she  remembered  only  the  happier  and 
Idndlier  portion  of  their  past  intercourse.  There  had 
l)een  plenty  of  quarrels  with  her  husband,  but  none  so 
desperate  as  before,  and  at  this  present  time  the  Earl  and 
Countess  were  united  against  the  surviving  sons,  who, 
with  Gilbert  at  their  head,  were  making  large  demands 
on  them.  Cicely  felt  grateful  to  the  Earl  for  his  absence 
from  Fotheringhay,  and,  though  disappointed  of  her 
peaceful  home  evening,  declared  she  would  come  up 
to  the  Lodge  rather  than  lose  sight  of  "  mother."  The 
stable  people,  more  considerate  than  their  Lord  and 
Lady,  proved  to  have  sent  a  horse  litter  for  the  con- 
veyance of  the  ladies  called  out  on  the  wet  dark 
October  evening,  and  here  it  was  that  Cis  could  enjoy 
her  first  precious  moment  of  privacy  with  one  for 
whom  she  had  so  long  yearned.  Susan  rejoiced  in  the 
heavy  lumbering  conveyance  as  a  luxury,  sparing  the 
maiden's  fatigue,  and  she  was  commencing  some  in- 
quiries into  the  indisposition  which  had  procured  this 
holiday,  when  Cicely  broke  in,  "  0  mother,  nothing 
aileth  me.  It  is  not  for  that  cause — but  oh  !  mother, 
I  am  to  go  to  see  Queen  Elizabeth,  and  strive  with  her 
for  her — for  my  mother's  life  and  freedom." 

"  Thou  !  poor  little  maid.  Doth  thy  father — what 
am  I  saying  ?     Doth  my  husband  know  ? " 

"  Oh  yes.    He  will  take  me.    He  saith  it  is  my  duty." 

"  Then  it  must  be  well,"  said  Susan  in  an  altered 
voice  on  hearing  this.  "Erom  whom*  came  the  pro- 
posal ?" 


478  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

"  I  made  it,"  said  Cicely  in  a  low,  feeble  voice, 
on  the  verge  of  tears.  "  Oh,  dear  mother,  thou  wilt 
not  tell  any  one  how  faint  of  heart  I  am  ?  I  did 
mean  it  in  sooth,  but  I  never  guessed  how  (h'eadful  it 
would  grow  now  I  am  pledged  to  it." 

"Thou  art  pledged,  then,  and  canst  not  falter?" 

"  Never,"  said  Cicely;  "  I  would  not  that  any  should 
know  it,  not  even  my  father ;  but  mother,  mother,  1 
could  not  help  telling  you.  You  will  let  no  one 
guess  ?     I  know  it  is  unwortliy,  but " 

"  Not  unworthy  to  fear,  my  poor  child,  so  long  as 
tliou  dost  not  waver." 

"  It  is,  it  is  unworthy  of  my  lineage.  My  mother 
queen  would  say  so,"  cried  Cis,  drawing  herself  up. 

"  Giving  way  would  be  unworthy,"  said  Susan, 
"but  turn  thou  to  thy  God,  my  child,  and  He  will 
give  thee  strength  to  carry  through  whatever  is  the 
duty  of  a  faithful  daughter  towards  this  poor  lady ;  and 
my  husband,  thou  sayest,  holds  that  so  it  is  ? " 

"  Yea,  madam ;  he  craved  license  to  take  me  home, 
since  I  have  truly  often  been  ailing  since  those  dread- 
ful days  at  Tixall,  and  he  hath  promised  to  go  to 
London  with  me." 

"And  is  this  to  be  done  in  tliine  own  true  name  ?" 
asked  Susan,  trembling  somewhat  at  the  risk  to  her 
husband,  as  well  as  to  the  maiden. 

"  I  tr©w  that  it  is,"  said  Cis,  "  but  the  matter  is  to 
be  put  "into  the  hands  of  M.  de  Chateauneuf,  the 
French  Ambassador.  I  have  a  letter  here,"  laying  her 
hand  on  her  bosom,  "  which,  the  Queen  declares,  will 
thoroughly  prove  to  him  who  I  am,  and  if  I  go  as 
under  his  protection,  none  can  do  my  father  any 
harm."  * 

Susan  hoped  so,  but  she  trusted  to  understand  all 


XXXVII.]  MY  lady's  kemorse.  479 

better  from  her  husband,  though  her  heart  failed  her 
as  much  as,  or  even  perhaps  more  than,  did  that  of 
poor  little  Cis.  Master  Richard  had  sped  on  before 
their  tardy  conveyance,  and  had  had  time  to  give  the 
heads  of  his  intelligence  before  they  reached  the  Manor- 
house,  and  when  they  were  conducted  to  my  Lady's 
chamber,  they  saw  him,  by  the  light  of  a  large  fire, 
standing  before  the  Earl  and  Countess,  cap  in  hand, 
much  as  a  groom  or  gamekeeper  would  now  stand 
before  his  master  and  mistress. 

The  Earl,  however,  rose  to  receive  the  ladies ;  but 
the  Countess,  no  great  observer  of  ceremony  towards 
otlier  people,  whatever  she  might  exact  from  them 
towards  .herself,  cried  out,  "  Come  hither,  come  hither, 
Cicely  Talbot,  and  tell  me  how  it  fares  with  the  poor 
lady,"  and  as  the  maiden  came  forward  in  the  dim 
light — "Ha!  What!  Is't  she?"  she  cried,  with  a 
sudden  start.  On  my  faith,  what  has  she  done  to 
thee  ?     Thou  art  as  like  her  as  the  foal  to  the  mare." 

This  exclamation  disconcerted  the  visitors,  but 
luckily  for  them  the  Earl  laughed  and  declared  that 
he  could  see  no  resemblance  in  Mistress  Cicely's  dark 
brows  to  the  arched  ones  of  the  Queen  of  Scots,  to 
which  his  wife  replied  testily,  "  Who  said  there  was  ? 
The  maid  need  not  be  uplifted,  for  there's  nothing- 
alike  between  them,  only  she  hath  caught  the  trick  of 
her  bearing  so  as  to  startle  me  in  the  dark,  my  head 
running  on  the  poor  lady.  I  could  have  sworn  'twas 
she  coming  in,  as  she  was  when  she  first  came  to  our 
care  fifteen  years  agone.  Pray  Heaven  she  may  not 
haunt  the  place  !     How  fareth  she  in  health,  wench  ?  " 

"  Well,  madam,  save  when  the  rheumatic  pains  take 
her,"  said  Cicely. 

"  And  still  of  sood  courage  ?" 


480  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

"  That,  madam,  nothing  can  daunt." 

Seats,  though  only  joint  stools,  were  given  to  the 
ladies,  but  Susan  found  herself  no  longer  trembling  at 
the  effects  of  the  Couutess's  insolence  upon  Cicely, 
who  seemed  to  accept  it  all  as  a  matter  of  course,  and 
almost  of  indifference,  though  replying  readily  and 
with  a  gentle  grace,  most  unlike  her  childish  petulance. 

Many  close  inquiries  from  the  Earl  and  Countess 
were  answered  by  Eichard  and  the  young  lady,  until 
they  had  a  tolerably  clear  idea  of  the  situation.  The 
Countess  wept  bitterly,  and  to  Cicely's  great  amazement 
began  bemoaning  herself  that  she  was  not  still  the 
poor  lady's  keeper.  It  was  a  shame  to  put  her  where 
there  were  no  women  to  feel  for  her.  Lady  Shrews- 
bury had  apparently  forgotten  that  no  one  had  been  so 
virulent  agamst  the  Queen  as  herself. 

And  when  it  was  impossible  to  deny  that  things 
looked  extremely  ill,  and  that  Burghley  and  Walsing- 
ham  seemed  resolved  not  to  let  slip  this  opportunity  of 
ridding  themselves  of  the  prisoner,  my  Lady  burst  out 
with,  "Ah  !  there  it  is  !  She  will  die,  and  my  promise 
is  broken,  and  she  will  haunt  me  to  my  dying  day,  all 
along  of  that  venomous  toad  and  spiteful  viper,  Mary 
Talbot." 

A  passionate  lit  of  weeping  succeeded,  mingled 
with  vituperations  of  her  daughter  Mary,  far  more  than 
of  herself,  and  amid  it  all,  during  Susan's  endeavours 
at  soothing,  Cicely  gathered  that  the  cause  of  the 
Countess's  despair  was  that  in  tlie  time  of  her  friend- 
sliip  and  ainity,  she  had  uttered  an  assurance  that  the 
Queen  need  not  fear  death,  as  she  would  contrive 
means  of  safety.  And  on  her  own  ground,  in  her  own 
Castle  or  Lodge,  there  could  be  little  doubt  that  she 
wculd   have  been    able  to  have  done  so.     The  Earl, 


XXXVII.]  MY  lady's  kemokse.  481 

indeed,  shook  liis  head,  but  repented,  for  she  Liiighed 
at  him  half  angrily,  half  hysterically,  for  thinking  he 
could  have  prevented  anything  that  she  was  set  upon. 

And  now  she  said  and  fully  believed  that  the  mis- 
understanding which  had  resulted  in  the  removal  of 
the  prisoner  had  been  entirely  due  to  the  slanders  and 
deceits  of  her  own  daughter  Mary,  and  her  husband 
Gilbert,  with  whom  she  was  at  this  time  on  the  worst 
of  terms.  And  thus  she  laid  on  them  the  blame  of  the 
Queen's  death  (if  that  was  really  decreed),  but  though 
she  outwardly  blamed  every  creature  save  herself,  such 
agony  of  mind,  and  even  terror,  proved  that  in  very 
truth  there  must  have  been  the  conviction  at  the 
bottom  of  her  heart  that  it  was  her  own  fault. 

The  Earl  had  beckoned  away  Master  Eichard,  botli 
glad  to  escape;  but  Cicely  had  to  remain,  and  filled  with 
compassion  for  one  whom  she  had  always  regarded  pre- 
viously as  an  enemy,  she  could  not  help  saying,  "  Dear 
madam,  take  comfort ;  I  am  going  to  bear  a  petition 
to  the  Queen's  Majesty  from  the  captive  lady,  and  if 
she  will  hear  me  all  will  yet  be  welL" 

"  How  !  What  ?  How  !  Thou  little  moppet ! 
Knows  she  what  she  says,  Susan  Talbot  ?" 

Susan  made  answer  that  she  had  had  time  to  hear 
no  particulars  yet,  but  that  Cicely  averred  that  she  was 
going  with  her  father's  consent,  whereupon  Eichard  was 
immediately  summoned  back  to  explain. 

The  Earl  and  Countess  could  hardly  believe  that  he 
should  have  consented  that  his  daughter  should  be  thus 
employed,  and  he  had  to  excuse  himself  with  what  he 
could  not  help  feeling  were  only  half  truths. 

"  The  poor  lady,"  he  said,  "  is  denied  all  power  of 
sending  word  or  letter  to  the  Queen  save  through  those 
whom  slie  views  as  her  enemies,  and  therefore  she  longed 

2  I 


482  UNKNOWN  TO  IIISTOIIY.  [CHAP. 

earnestly  either  to  see  her  Majesty,  or  to  hold  communi- 
cation with  her  through  one  whom  she  knoweth  to  be 
both  simple  and  her  own  friend." 

"  Yea,"  said  the  Countess,  "  I  could  well  have  done 
this  for  her  could  I  but  have  had  speech  with  her.  Or 
she  might  have  sent  Bess  Pierrepoint,  who  surely  would 
have  been  a  more  fitting  messenger." 

"  Save  that  she  hath  not  had  access  to  the  Queen  of 
Scots  of  late,"  said  Eichard. 

"  Yea,  and  her  father  would  scarcely  he  willing  to 
risk  the  Queen's  displeasure,"  said  the  Earl. 

"Art  thou  ready  to  abide  it.  Master  Eichard  ?"  said 
the  Countess,  "  though  after  all  it  could  do  you  little 
harm."  And  her  tone  marked  the  infinite  distance 
she  placed  between  him  and  Sir  Henry  Pierrepoint,  the 
husband  of  her  daughter. 

"  That  is  true,  madam,"  said  Eichard ;  "  and  more- 
over, I  cannot  reconcile  it  to  my  conscience  to  debar 
the  poor  lady  from  any  possible  opening  of  safety." 

"  Thou  art  a  good  man,  Eichard,"  said  the  Earl,  and 
therewith  both  he  and  the  Countess  became  extremely, 
nay,  almost  inconveniently,  desirous  to  forward  the 
petitioner  on  her  way.  To  listen  to  them  that  night, 
they  w^ould  have  had  her  go  as  an  emissary  of  the 
house  of  Shrewsbury,  and  only  the  previous  quarrel 
with  Lord  Talbot  and  his  wife  prevented  them  from 
proposing  that  she  shoukl  be  led  to  the  foot  of  the 
throne  by  Gilbert  himself. 

Cicely  began  to  be  somewhat  alarmed  at  plans  that 
would  disconcert  all  the  instructions  she  had  received, 
and  only  her  old  habits  of  respect  kept  her  silent  when 
she  thought  ]\laster  Eichard  not  ready  enough  to  refuse 
all  these  offers. 

At  last  he  succeeded  in  obtaining  license  to  depart, 


XXXVII.]  MY  lady's  remoese.  483 

and  no  sooner  was  Cicely  again  shut  up  with  Mistress 
Susan  in  the  litter  than  she  exclaimed,  "  Now  will  it 
be  most  hard  to  carry  out  the  Queen's  orders  that  I 
should  go  first  to  the  French  Ambassador.  I  would 
that  my  Lady  Countess  would  not  think  naught  can 
succeed  without  her  meddling." 

"  Thou  shouldst  liave  let  father  tell  thy  purpose  in 
his  own  way,"  said  Susan. 

"  Ah!  mother,!  am  an  indiscreet  simpleton,  not  fit  for 
such  a  work  as  I  have  taken  in  hand,"  said  poor  Cis. 
"Here  hath  my  foolish  tongue  traversed  it  already  !" 

"  Fear  not,"  said  Susan,  as  one  who  well  knew  the 
nature  of  her  kinswoman  ;  "  belike  she  will  have  cooled 
to-morrow,  all  the  more  because  father  said  naught  to 
the  nayward." 

Susan  was  uneasy  enough  herself,  and  very  desirous 
to  hear  all  from  her  husband  in  private.  And  that 
night  he  told  her  that  he  had  very  little  hope  of  the 
intercession  being  availing.  He  believed  that  the 
Treasurer  and  Secretary  were  absolutely  determined  on 
Mary's  death,  and  would  sooner  or  later  force  consent 
from  the  Queen ;  but  there  was  the  possibility  that 
Elizabeth's  feelings  might  be  so  far  stirred  that  on  a 
sudden  impulse  she  might  set  Mary  at  liberty,  and 
place  her  beyond  their  reach. 

"  And  hap  what  may,"  he  said,  "  when  a  daughter 
offereth  to  do  her  vitmost  for  a  mother  in  peril  of  death, 
what  right  have  I  to  hinder  her?" 

"  May  God  guard  the  duteous  !"  said  Susan.  "  But 
oh  !  husband,  is  she  worthy,  for  whom  the  child  is  thus 
to  lead  you  into  peril  ?  " 

"  She  is  her  mother,"  repeated  Iiichard,  "  Had  I 
erred " 

"  Which  you  never  could  do,"  broke  in  the  wife. 


484  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

"  I  am  a  sinful  mrai,"  said  he. 

"  Yea,  but  there  are  deeds  you  never  could  ha^'e 
done." 

"  By  God's  grace  I  trust  not ;  but  hear  me  out,  wife. 
Mine  errors,  nay,  my  crimes,  would  not  do  away  with 
the  duty  owed  to  me  by  my  sous.  How,  then,  should 
any  sins  of  this  poor  Queen  withhold  her  daughter  from 
rendering  her  all  the  succour  in  her  power  ?  And  thou, 
thou  thyself,  Susan,  hast  taken  her  for  thine  own  too 
long  to  endure  to  let  her  undertake  the  matter  alone 
and  unaided." 

"  She  would  not  attempt  it  thus,"  said  Susan. 

"  I  cannot  tell ;  but  I  should  thus  be  guilty  of  foil- 
ing her  in  a  brave  and  filial  purpose." 

"  And  yet  thou  dost  hold  her  poor  mother  a  guilty 
woman  ?" 

"  Said  I  so  ?  Nay,  Susan,  I  am  as  dubious  as  ever 
I  was  on  that  head." 

"After  hearing  the  trial?" 

"  A  word  in  thine  ear,  my  discreet  wife.  The  trial 
convinced  me  far  more  that  place  makes  honest  men 
act  like  cruel  knaves  than  of  aught  else." 

"  Then  thou  boldest  her  innocent  ?" 

"  I  said  not  so.  I  have  known  too  long  how  she 
lives  by  the  weaving  of  webs.  I  know  not  how  it  is, 
but  these  great  folks  seem  not  to  deem  that  truth  in 
word  and  deed  is  a  part  of  their  religion.  For  my  part, 
I  should  distrust  whatever  godliness  did  not  lead  to 
truth,  but  a  plain  man  never  knows  where  to  have 
them.  That  she  and  poor  Antony  Babington  were  in 
league  to  bring  hither  the  Spaniards  and  restore  the 
Pope,  I  have  no  manner  of  doubt  on  the  word  of  both, 
but  then  they  deem  it — Heaven  help  them — a  virtuous 
act ;  and  it  might  be  lawful  in  her,  seeing  that  she  has 


XXXVII.]  MY  lady's  kemorse.  485 

always  called  herself  a  free  sovereign  unjustly  detained. 
What  he  stuck  at  and  she  denies,  is  the  purpose  of 
murdering  the  Queen's  Majesty." 

"  Sure  that  was  the  head  and  front  of  the  poor 
young  man's  offending." 

"  So  it  was,  but  not  until  he  had  been  urged  thereto 
by  his  priests,  and  had  obtained  her  consent  in  a  letter. 
Heaven  forgive  me  if  I  misjudge  any  one,  but  my  belief 
is  this — that  the  letters,  whereof  only  the  deciphered 
copies  were  shown,  did  not  quit  the  hands  of  either  the 
one  or  the  other,  such  as  we  heard  them  at  Fotheringhay. 
So  poor  Babington  said,  so  saith  the  Queen  of  Scots, 
demanding  vehemently  to  have  them  read  in  her  pre- 
sence before  Nau  and  Curll,  who  could  testify  to  them. 
Cis  deemeth  that  the  true  letter  from  Babington  is  in 
a  packet  which,  on  learning  from  Humfrey  his  sus- 
picion that  there  was  treachery,  the  Queen  gave  her, 
and  she  threw  down  a  well  at  Chartley." 

"  That  was  pity." 

"  Say  not  so,  for  had  the  original  letter  been  seized, 
it  would  only  have  been  treated  in  the  same  manner 
as  the  copy,  and  never  allowed  to  reach  Queen  Eliza- 
beth." 

"  I  am  glad  poor  Cicely's  mother  can  stand  clear  of 
that  guilt,"  said  Susan.  "  I  served  her  too  long,  and 
received  too  much  gentle  treatment  from  her,  to  brook 
the  thought  that  she  could  be  so  far  left  to  herself." 

"  Mind  you,  dame,"  said  Eichard,  "  I  am  not  wholly 
convinced  that  she  was  not  aware  that  her  friends  would 
in  some  way  or  other  bring  about  the  Queen's  death, 
and  that  she  would  scarce  have  visited  it  very  harshly, 
but  she  is  far  too  wise — ay,  and  too  tender-hearted,  to 
have  entered  into  the  matter  beforehand.  So  I  think 
her  not  wholly  guiltless,  though  the  wrongs  she  hath 


486  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOKY.  [CHAP. 

suffered  have  been  so  great  that  I  would  do  whatever 
was  not  disloyal  to  mine  own  Queen  to  aid  her  to 
obtain  justice." 

"  You  are  doing  much,  much  indeed,"  said  Susan  ; 
"  and  all  this  time  you  have  told  me  nothing  of  my  sou, 
save  what  all  might  hear.  How  fares  he  ?  is  his  heart 
still  set  on  this  poor  maid  ?" 

"  And  ever  will  be,"  said  his  father.  "  His  is  not  an 
outspoken  babbling  love  like  poor  Master  Nau,  who 
they  say  was  so  inspired  at  finding  himself  in  the  same 
city  with  Bess  Pierrepoint  that  he  could  talk  of  nothing 
else,  and  seemed  to  have  no  thought  of  his  own  danger 
or  his  Queen's.  No,  but  he  hath  told  me  that  he  wiU 
give  up  all  to  serve  her,  without  hope  of  requital ;  for 
her  mother  hath  made  her  forswear  him,  and  though 
she  be  not  always  on  his  tongue,  he  will  do  so,  if  I 
mistake  not  his  steadfastness." 

Susan  sighed,  but  she  knew  that  the  love,  that  had 
begun  when  the  lonely  boy  hailed  the  shipwrecked 
infant  as  his  little  sister,  was  of  a  calm,  but  unquench- 
able nature,  were  it  for  weal  or  woe.  She  could  not 
but  be  thankful  that  the  express  mandate  of  both  the 
parents  had  withheld  her  son  from  sharing  the  danger 
which  was  serious  enough  even  for  her  husband's 
prudence  and  coolness  of  head. 

By  the  morning,  as  she  had  predicted,  the  ardour 
of  the  Earl  and  Countess  had  considerably  slackened ; 
and  though  still  willing  to  forward  the  petitioner  on 
her  way,  they  did  not  wish  their  names  to  appear  in 
the  matter. 

They  did,  however,  make  an  important  offer.  The 
Ifastijf  wsLS  newly  come  into  harbour  at  Hull,  and  they 
offered  Eichard  the  use  of  her  as  a  conveyance.  He 
gladly  accepted  it.     The  saving  of  expense  was  a  great 


XXXVII.]  MY  lady's  remorse.  487 

object ;  for  lie  was  most  unwilling  to  use  Queen  Mary's 
order  on  the  French  Ambassador,  and  he  likewise 
deemed  it  possible  that  such  a  means  of  evasion  might 
be  very  useful. 

The  Mastiff  was  sometimes  used  by  some  of  the 
Talbot  family  on  journeys  to  London,  and  had  a  toler- 
ably commodious  cabin,  according  to  the  notions  of  the 
time ;  and  though  it  was  late  in  the  year,  and  poor  Cis 
was  likely  to  be  wretched  enough  on  the  voyage,  the 
additional  security  was  worth  having,  and  Cicely  would 
be  under  the  care  of  Goatley's  wife,  who  made  all  the 
voyages  with  her  husband.  The  Earl  likewise  charged 
Richard  Talbot  with  letters  and  messages  of  conciliation 
to  his  son  Gilbert,  whose  estrangement  was  a  great 
grief  to  him,  arising  as  it  did  entirely  from  the  quarrels 
of  the  two  wives,  mother  and  daughter.  He  even 
charged  his  kinsman  with  the  proposal  to  give  up 
Sheffield  to  Lord  and  Lady  Talbot  and  retire  to  Wing- 
field  rather  than  continue  at  enmity.  Mr.  Talbot  knew 
the  parties  too  well  to  have  much  hope  of  prevailing, 
or  producing  permanent  peace ;  but  the  commission 
was  welcome,  as  it  would  give  a  satisfactory  pretext 
for  his  presence  in  London. 

A  few  days  were  spent  at  Bridgefield,  Cicely  making 
herself  the  most  loving,  helpful,  and  charming  of 
daughters,  and  really  basking  in  the  peaceful  atmo- 
sphere of  Susan's  presence ;  and  then, — ^with  many 
prayers  and  blessings  from  that  good  lady, — they  set 
forth  for  Hull,  taking  with  them  two  servants  besides 
poor  Babington's  man  Gillingham,  whose  superior  intel- 
ligence and  knowledge  of  London  would  make  him 
useful,  though  there  was  a  dark  brooding  look  about 
him  that  made  Eichard  always  dread  some  act  of 
revenge  on  his  part  toward  his  master's  foes. 


488  UNKNOWN  TO  HlSTOfiY.  [CIIAP. 


CHAPTER    XXXVIII. 

MASTER  TALBOT  AND  HIS  CHARGE. 

The  afternoon  on  which  they  were  to  enter  the  old 
town  of  Kingston-upon-HuU  closed  in  with  a  dense 
sea-fog,  fast  turning  to  drizzling  rain.  They  could  see 
but  a  little  distance  on  either  side,  and  could  not  see 
the  lordly  old  church  tower.  The  beads  of  dew  on  the 
fringes  of  her  pony's  ears  were  more  visible  to  Cicely 
than  anything  else,  and  as  she  kept  along  by  Master 
Richard's  side,  she  rejoiced  both  in  the  beaten,  well- 
trodden  track,  and  in  the  pealing  bells  which  seemed 
to  guide  them  into  the  haven ;  while  Richard  was  re- 
volving, as  he  had  done  all  through  the  journey,  where 
he  could  best  lodge  his  companion  so  as  to  be  safe,  and 
at  the  same  time  free  from  inconvenient  curiosity. 

The  wetness  of  the  evening  made  promptness  of 
decision  the  more  needful,  while  the  bad  weather  which 
his  experienced  eye  foresaw  would  make  the  choice 
more  important. 

Discerning  tlirough  the  increasing  gloom  a  lantern 
moving  in  tlie  street  which  seemed  to  him  to  light  a  sub- 
stantial cloaked  figure,  he  drew  up  and  asked  if  he  were 
in  the  way  to  a  well-known  hostel.  Fortune  had  favoured 
him,  for  a  voice  demanded  in  return,  "  Do  I  hear  the 
voice  of  good  Captain  Talbot  ?     At  your  service." 


XXXVIIL]       master  TALBOT  AND  HIS  CHARGE.  489 

"Yea,  it  is  I — Eichard  Talbot.  Is  it  you,  good 
Master  Heatliertliwayte  ?" 

"  It  is  verily,  sir.  Well  do  I  remember  you,  good 
trusty  Captain,  and  the  goodly  lady  your  wife.  Do  I 
see  her  here  ?"  returned  the  clergyman,  who  had 
heartily  grasped  Richard's  hand. 

"  No,  sir,  this  is  my  daughter,  for  whose  sake  I 
would  ask  you  to  direct  me  to  some  lodging  for  the 
night." 

"Nay,  if  the  young  lady  will  put  up  with  my 
humble  chambers,  and  my  little  daughter  for  her  bed- 
fellow, I  would  not  have  so  old  an  acquaintance  go 
farther." 

Richard  accepted  the  offer  gladly,  and  Mr.  Heather- 
thwayte  walked  close  to  the  horses,  using  his  lantern 
to  direct  them,  and  sending  flashes  of  light  over  the 
gabled  ends  of  the  old  houses  and  the  muffled  pass- 
engers, till  they  came  to  a  long  flagged  passage,  when 
he  asked  them  to  dismount,  bidding  the  servants  and 
horses  to  await  his  return,  and  giving  his  hand  to  con- 
duct the  young  lady  along  the  narrow  slippery  alley, 
which  seemed  to  have  either  broken  walls  or  houses  on 
either  side. 

He  explained  to  Richard,  by  the  way,  that  he  had 
married  the  godly  widow  of  a  shipchandler,  but  that  it 
had  pleased  Heaven  to  take  her  from  him  at  the  end 
of  five  years,  leaving  him  two  young  children,  but  that 
her  ancient  nurse  had  the  care  of  the  house  and  tlie 
little  ones. 

Curates  were  not  sumptuously  lodged  in  those  days. 
Tlie  cells  which  had  been  sufficient  for  monks  commis- 
sioned by  monasteries  were  no  homes  for  men  with 
families  ;  and  where  means  were  to  be  had,  a  few  rooms 
had  been  added  without  much  grace,  or  old  cottages 


490  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

adapted — for  indeed  the  requirements  of  the  clergy  of 
the  day  did  not  soar  above  those  of  the  farmer  or  petty 
dealer.  Master  Heatherthwayte  pulled  a  string  de- 
pending from  a  hole  in  a  door,  the  place  of  which  lie 
seemed  to  know  by  instinct,  and  admitted  the  new- 
comers into  a  narrow  paved  entry,  where  he  called 
aloud,  "  Here,  Oil !  Dust !  Goody  !  Bring  a  light ! 
Here  are  guests  !" 

A  door  was  opened  instantly  into  a  large  kitchen 
or  keeping  room,  bright  with  a  fire  and  small  lamp. 
A  girl  of  nine  or  ten  sprang  forward,  but  hung  back  at 
the  sight  of  strangers ;  a  boy  of  twelve  rose  awkwardly 
from  conning  his  lessons  by  the  low,  unglazed  lamp  ;  an 
old  woman  showed  herself  from  some  kind  of  pantry, 

"  Here,"  said  the  clergyman,  "  is  my  most  esteemed 
friend  Captain  Talbot  of  Bridgefield  and  his  daugliter, 
who  will  do  us  the  honour  of  abiding  with  us  this  night. 
Do  thou.  Goody  Madge,  and  thou,  Oil-of-Gladness,  make 
the  young  lady  welcome,  and  dry  her  garments,  while 
we  go  and  see  to  the  beasts.  Thou,  Dust-and- Ashes, 
mayest  come  with  us  and  lead  the  gentleman's  horse." 

The  lad,  saddled  with  this  dismal  name,  and  arrayed 
in  garments  which  matched  it  in  colour  though  not  in 
uncleanliness,  sprang  up  with  alacrity,  infinitely  prefer- 
ring fog,  rain,  and  darkness  to  his  accidence,  and  never 
guessing  that  he  owed  this  relaxation  to  his  father's 
recollection  of  Mrs.  Talbot's  ways,  and  perception  that 
the  young  lady  would  be  better  attended  to  without  his 
presence. 

Oil-of-Gladness  was  a  nice  little  rosy  girl  in  the 
tightest  and  primmest  of  caps  and  collars,  and  with  the 
little  housewifely  hospitality  that  young  mistresses  of 
houses  early  attain  to.  There  was  no  notion  of  equal 
terms  between  the  Curate's  daughter  and  the  Squire's ; 


XXXVIII.]       MASTER  TALBOT  AND  HIS  CHARGE.  491 

the  child  brought  a  chair,  and  stood  respectfully  to 
receive  the  hood,  cloak,  and  riding  skirt,  seeming 
delighted  at  the  smile  and  thanks  with  which  Cicely 
requited  her  attentions.  The  old  woman  felt  the  inner 
skirts,  to  make  sure  that  they  were  not  damp,  and  then 
the  little  girl  brought  warm  water,  and  held  tlie  bowl 
while  her  guest  washed  face  and  hands,  and  smoothed 
her  hair  with  the  ivory  comb  which  ladies  always  carried 
on  a  journey.  The  sweet  power  of  setting  people  at 
ease  was  one  Cis  had  inherited  and  cultivated  by  imita- 
tion, and  Oil- of- Gladness  was  soon  chattering  away 
over  her  toilette.  Would  the  lady  really  sleep  with 
her  in  her  little  bed  ?  She  would  promise  not  to  kick 
if  she  could  help  it.  Then  she  exclaimed,  "  Oh !  what 
fair  tiling  was  that  at  the  lady's  throat  ?  Was  it  a 
jewel  of  gold  ?  She  had  never  seen  one ;  for  father 
said  it  was  not  for  Christian  women  to  adorn  them- 
selves.   Oh  no  ;  she  did  not  mean "  and,  confused, 

she  ran  off  to  help  Goody  to  lay  the  spotless  tablecloth, 
Cis  following  to  set  the  child  at  peace  with  herself,  and 
unloose  the  tongue  again  into  hopes  that  the  lady  liked 
conger  pie ;  for  father  had  bought  a  mighty  conger  for 
twopence,  and  Goody  had  made  a  goodly  pie  of  him. 

By  the  time  the  homely  meal  was  ready  Mr.  Talbot 
had  returned  from  disposing  of  his  horses  and  servanis 
at  a  hostel,  for  whose  comparative  respectability  Mr 
Heatherthwayte  had  answered.  The  clergyman  himself 
alone  sat  down  to  supper  with  his  guests.  He  would 
not  hear  of  letting  either  of  his  children  do  so  ;  but 
while  Dust-and- Ashes  retired  to  study  his  tasks  for  the 
Grammar  School  by  firelight.  Oil -of- Gladness  assisted 
Goody  in  waiting,  in  a  deft  and  ready  manner  pleasant 
to  behold. 

No  sooner  did  Mr.  Talbot  mention  the  name  Cicely 


492  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

than  Master  Heatherthwayte  looked  up  and  said — ■ 
"  Metliinks  it  was  I  who  spake  that  name  over  this 
young  lady  in  baptism." 

"  Even  so,"  said  Eichard.  "  She  knoweth  all,  but 
she  hath  ever  been  our  good  and  dutiful  daughter,  for 
which  we  are  the  more  thankful  that  Heaven  hath 
given  us  none  other  maid  child." 

He  knew  Master  Heatherthwayte  was  inclined  to 
curiosity  about  other  people's  affairs,  and  therefore 
turned  the  discourse  on  the  doings  of  his  sons,  hoping 
to  keep  him  thus  employed  and  avert  all  further  con- 
versation uj)on  Cicely  and  the  cause  of  the  journey. 
The  good  man  was  most  interested  in  Edward,  only  he 
exhorted  Mr.  Talbot  to  be  careful  with  whom  he  be- 
stowed the  stripling  at  Cambridge,  so  that  he  might 
shed  the  pure  light  of  the  Gospel,  undimmed  by 
Popish  obscurities  and  idolatries. 

He  began  on  his  objections  to  the  cross  in  baptism 
and  the  ring  in  marriage,  and  dilated  on  them  to  his 
own  satisfaction  over  the  tankard  of  ale  that  was 
placed  for  him  and  his  guest,  and  the  apples  and  nuts 
wherewith  Cicely  was  surreptitiously  feeding  Oil -of - 
Gladness  and  Dust-and- Ashes ;  wliile  the  old  woman 
bustled  about,  and  at  length  made  her  voice  heard  in 
the  announcement  that  the  chamber  was  ready,  and  the 
young  lady  was  weary  with  travel,  and  it  was  time  she 
was  abed,  and  Oil  likewise. 

Though  not  very  young  children.  Oil  and  Dust,  at 
a  sign  from  their  father,  knelt  by  his  chair,  and  uttered 
their  evening  prayers  aloud,  after  which  he  blessed  and 
dismissed  them — the  boy  to  a  shake- down  in  his  own 
room,  the  girl  to  the  ecstasy  of  assisting  the  guest  to 
undress,  and  admiring  the  wonders  of  the  very  simple 
toilette  apparatus  contained  in  her  little  cloak  bag. 


XXXVIII.]       MASTER  TALBOT  AND  HIS  CHARGE.  493 

Eichard  meantime  was  responding  as  best  he  could 
to  the  inquiries  he  knew  would  he  inevitable  as  soon 
as  he  fell  in  with  the  Eeverend  Master  Heatherthwayte. 
He  was  going  to  London  in  the  Mastiff  on  some  busi- 
ness connected  with  the  Queen  of  Scots,  he  said. 

Whereupon  ]\Ir.  Heatherthwayte  quoted  something 
from  the  Psalms  about  the  wicked  being  taken  in  their 
own  pits,  and  devoutly  hoped  she  would  not  escape  this 
time.  His  uncharitableness  might  be  excused  by  the 
fact  that  he  viewed  it  as  an  immediate  possibility  that 
the  Prince  of  Parma  might  any  day  enter  the  Humber, 
when  he  would  assuredly  be  burnt  alive,  and  Oil-of- 
Gladness  exposed  to  the  fate  of  the  children  of  Haarlem. 

Then  he  added,  "  I  grieved  to  hear  that  you  and 
your  household  were  so  much  exposed  to  the  witchcrafts 
of  that  same  woman,  sir." 

"  I  hope  she  hath  done  them  little  hurt,"  said 
Eichard." 

"  Is  it  true,"  he  added,  "  that  the  woman  hath  laid 
claim  to  the  young  lady  now  here  as  a  kinswoman  ?" 

"  It  is  true,"  said  Eichard,  "  but  how  hath  it  come 
to  your  knowledge,  my  good  friend  ?  I  deemed  it 
known  to  none  out  of  our  liouse  ;  not  even  the  Earl  and 
Countess  guess  that  slie  is  no  child  of  ours." 

"  Nay,  Mr.  Talbot,  is  it  well  to  go  on  in  a  deceit  ?" 

"  Call  it  rather  a  concealment,"  said  Eichard.  "  We 
have  doubted  it  since,  but  when  we  began,  it  was  merely 
that  there  was  none  to  whom  it  seemed  needful  to 
explain  that  the  babe  was  not  the  little  daughter  we 
buried  here.  But  how  did  you  learn  it  ?  It  imports 
to  know." 

"  Sir,  do  you  remember  your  old  servant  Colet, 
Gervas's  wife  ?  It  will  be  three  years  next  Whitsun- 
tide that  hearing  a  great  outcry  as  of  a  woman  mal- 


494  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

treated  as  I  passed  in  the  street,  I  made  my  way  into 
the  house  and  found  Gervas  verily  beating  his  wife  with 
a  broomstick.  After  I  had  rebuked  him  and  caused  him 
to  desist,  I  asked  him  the  cause,  and  he  declared  it  to 
be  that  his  wife  had  been  gadding  to  a  stinking  Papist 
fellow,  who  would  be  sure  to  do  a  mischief  to  his  noble 
captain,  Mr.  Talbot.  Thereupon  Colet  declares  that  she 
had  done  no  harm,  the  gentleman  wist  all  before.  She 
knew  him  again  tor  the  captain's  kiusman  who  was  in 
the  house  the  day  that  the  captain  brought  home  the 
babe." 

"Cuthbert  Langston !" 

"  Even  so,  sir.  It  seems  that  he  had  been  with  this 
woman,  and  questioned  her  closely  on  all  she  remem- 
bered of  tlie  child,  learning  from  her  what  I  never  knew 
before,  that  there  were  marks  branded  on  her  shoulders 
and  a  letter  sewn  in  her  clothes.     Was  it  so,  sir  ?" 

"  Ay,  but  my  wife  and  I  thought  that  even  Colet 
had  never  seen  them." 

"  Nothing  can  escape  a  woman,  sir.  This  man  drew 
all  from  her  by  assuring  her  that  the  maiden  belonged 
to  some  great  folk,  and  was  even  akin  to  the  King  and 
Queen  of  Scots,  and  tliat  she  miglit  have  some  great 
reward  if  she  told  her  story  to  them.  She  even  sold 
liim  some  three  or  four  gold  and  ivory  beads  which  she 
says  she  found  when  sweeping  out  the  room  where  the 
child  was  first  undressed." 

"  Hatli  she  ever  lieard  more  of  the  fellow  ?" 

"Nay,  but  Gervas  siuce  told  me  tliat  he  had  met 
some  of  my  Lord's  men  who  told  him  that  your  daughter 
was  one  of  the  Queen  of  Scots'  ladies,  and  said  he,  '  I 
held  my  peace ;  but  methought.  It  hatli  come  of  the 
talebearing  of  tliat  fellow  to  whom  my  wife  prated.' " 

"  Gervas  guessed  ri^ht,"  said  Hichard.      "  That  Lang- 


XXXVIII.]       MASTER  TALBOT  AND  HIS  CHARGE.  495 

ston  did  contrive  to  make  known  to  the  Queen  of  Scots 
such  tokens  as  led  to  her  owning  the  maiden  as  of 
near  kin  to  her  by  the  mother's  side,  and  to  her  husband 
on  the  father's ;  but  for  many  reasons  she  entreated  us 
to  allow  the  damsel  still  to  bear  our  name,  and  be  treated 
as  our  child." 

"  I  doubt  me  whether  it  were  well  done  of  you,  sir," 
said  Mr.  Heatherthwayte. 

"  Of  that,"  said  Eichard,  drawing  up  into  himself, 
"  no  man  can  judge  for  another." 

"  She  hath  been  with  that  woman ;  she  will,  have 
imbibed  her  Popish  vanities !"  exclaimed  the  poor  clergy- 
man, almost  ready  to  start  up  and  separate  Oil-of-Glad- 
ness  at  once  from  the  contamination. 

"  You  may  be  easy  on  that  score,"  said  Eichard 
drily.  "  Her  faith  is  what  my  good  wife  taught  her, 
and  she  hath  constantly  attended  the  preachings  of  the 
chaplains  of  Sir  Amias  Paulett,  who  be  all  of  your  own 
way  of  thinking." 

"You  assure  me?"  said  Mr.  Heatherthwayte,  "for 
it  is  the  nature  of  these  folk  to  act  a  part,  even  as  did 
the  parent  the  serpent." 

Often  as  Eichard  liad  thought  so  himself,  he  was 
offended  now,  and  rose,  "  If  you  think  I  have  brought 
a  serpent  into  your  house,  sir,  we  will  take  shelter  else- 
where.     I  will  call  her." 

]\Ir.  Heatherthwayte  apologised  and  protested,  and 
showed  himself  willing  to  accept  the  assurance  that 
Cicely  was  as  simple  and  guileless  as  his  own  little 
maid ;  and  ]\Ir.  Talbot,  not  wishing  to  be  sent  adrift 
with  Cicely  at  that  time  of  night,  and  certainly  not  to 
put  such  an  affront  on  the  good,  if  over-anxious  fatlier, 
was  pacified,  but  the  cordial  tone  of  ease  was  at  an  end, 
and  they  were  glad  to  separate  and  retire  to  rest. 


496  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

Richard  had  much  cause  for  thought.  He  perceived, 
what  had  always  been  a  perplexity  to  him  before,  how 
Langston  had  arrived  at  the  knowledge  that  enabled 
him  to  identify  Cicely  with  the  babe  of  Lochleven. 

Mr.  Talbot  heard  moanings  and  wailiugs  of  wind  all 
night,  which  to  his  experience  here  meant  either  a  three 
days'  detention  at  Hull,  or  a  land  journey.  With  dawn 
there  were  gusts  and  showers.  He  rose  betimes  and 
went  downstairs.  He  could  hear  his  good  host  praying 
aloud  in  his  room,  and  feeling  determined  not  to  vex  that 
Puritan  spirit  by  the  presence  of  Queen  Mary's  pupil,  he 
wrapped  his  cloak  about  him  and  went  out  to  study  the 
weather,  and  inquire  for  lodgings  to  which  he  might 
remove  Cicely.  He  saw  nothing  he  liked,  and  deter- 
mined on  consulting  his  old  mate,  Goatley,  who  gener- 
ally acted  as  skipper,  but  he  had  first  to  return  so  as 
not  to  delay  the  morning  meal.  He  found,  on  coming 
in,  Cicely  helping  Oil -of- Gladness  in  making  griddle 
cakes,  and  buttering  them,  so  as  to  make  Mr.  Heather- 
thwayte  declare  that  he  had  not  tasted  the  like  since 
Mistress  Susan  quitted  Hull 

]\Ioreover,  he  had  not  sat  down  to  the  meal  more 
than  ten  minutes  before  he  discovered,  to  his  secret 
amusement,  that  Cicely  had  perfectly  fascinated  and 
charmed  the  good  minister,  who  would  have  shuddered 
had  he  known  that  she  did  so  by  the  graces  inherited 
and  acquired  from  the  object  of  his  abhorrence.  Invi- 
tations to  abide  in  their  present  quarters  till  it  was 
possible  to  sail  were  pressed  on  them ;  and  though 
Pilchard  showed  himself  unwilHng  to  accept  them,  they 
were  so  cordially  reiterated,  that  he  felt  it  wiser  to 
accede  to  them  rather  than  spread  the  mystery  fartlier. 
He  was  never  quite  sure  whether  Mr.  Heatherthwayte 
looked  on  the  young  lady  as  untainted,  or  whether  he 


XXXVIII.]       MASTER  TALBOT  AND  HIS  CHARGE.  497 

wished  to  secure  her  in  his  own  instructions  ;  but  he 
always  described  her  as  a  modest  and  virtuous  young 
lady,  and  so  far  from  thinking  her  presence  dangerous, 
only  wished  Oil  to  learn  as  much  from  her  as  possible. 

Cicely  was  sorely  disappointed,  and  wanted  to  ride 
on  at  once  by  land ;  but  when  her  foster-father  had 
shown  her  that  the  bad  weather  would  be  an  almost 
equal  obstacle,  and  that  much  time  would  be  lost  on 
the  road,  she  submitted  with  the  good  temper  she  had 
cultivated  under  such  a  notable  example.  She  taught 
Oil-of-Gladness  the  cookery  of  one  of  her  mothers  and 
the  stitchery  of  the  other ;  she  helped  Dust-and-Aslies 
with  his  accidence,  and  enlightened  him  on  the  sports 
of  the  Bridgefield  boys,  so  that  his  father  looked  round 
dismayed  at  the  smotliered  laughter,  when  she  assured 
him  that  she  was  only  telling  how  her  brother  Diccon 
caught  a  coney,  or  the  like,  and  in  some  magical  way 
smoothed  down  his  frowns  with  her  smile. 

Mistress  Cicely  Talbot's  visit  was  likely  to  be  an 
unforgotten  era  with  Dust-and-Ashes  and  Oil-of-Glad- 
ness. The  good  curate  entreated  that  she  and  her 
father  would  lodge  there  on  their  return,  and  the  invi- 
tation was  accepted  conditionally,  Mr.  Talbot  writing 
to  his  wife,  by  the  carriers,  to  send  such  a  load  of  good 
cheer  from  Bridgefield  as  would  amply  compensate  for 
the  ex])enses  of  this  hospitality. 


2  K 


498  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 


CHAPTEE  XXXIX 

THE  FETTERLOCK  COURT. 

People  did  not  pity  themselves  so  much  for  suspense 
when,  instead  of  receiving  an  answer  in  less  than  an 
hour,  they  liad  to  wait  for  it  for  weeks  if  not  months. 
Mrs.  Talbot  might  be  anxious  at  Bridgefield,  and  her 
son  at  Fotheringhay,  and  poor  Queen  Mary,  whose  life 
hung  in  the  balance,  more  heartsick  with  what  old 
writers  well  named  wanhope  than  any  of  them ;  but 
they  had  to  live  on,  and  rise  morning  after  morning 
without  expecting  any  intelligence,  unable  to  do  any- 
thing but  pray  for  those  who  might  be  in  perils  un- 
known. 

After  the  strain  and  effort  of  her  trial,  Mary  had 
become  very  ill,  and  kept  her  bed  for  many  days. 
Humfrey  continued  to  fulfil  his  daily  duties  as  com- 
mander of  the  guards  set  upon  her,  but  he  seldom  saw 
or  spoke  with  any  of  her  attendants,  as  Sir  Andrew 
Melville,  whom  he  knew  the  best  of  them,  had  on 
some  suspicion  been  separated  from  his  mistress  and 
confined  in  another  part  of  the  Castle. 

Sir  Amias  Paulett,  too,  was  sick  with  gout  and 
anxiety,  and  was  much  relieved  when  Sir  Drew  Drury 
was  sent  to  his  assistance.  The  new  warder  was  a 
more  courteous  and  easy-mannered  person,  and  did  not 


XXXIX.]  THE  FETTEELOCK  COUKT.  499 

fret  liimself  or  the  prisoner  with  precautions  like  his 
colleague ;  and  on  Sir  Amias's  reiterated  complaint 
that  the  guards  were  not  numerous  enougli,  he  .  had 
brought  down  five  fresh  men,  hired  in  London,  fellows 
used  to  all  sorts  of  weapons,  and  at  home  in  military 
discipline ;  but,  as  Humfrey  soon  perceived,  at  home 
likewise  in  the  license  of  camps,  and  most  incongruous 
companions  for  the  simple  village  bumpkins,  and  the 
precise  retainers  who  had  hitherto  formed  the  garrison. 
He  did  his  best  to  keep  order,  but  marvelled  how  Sir 
Amias  would  view  their  excesses  when  he  should  come 
forth  again  from  his  sick  chamber. 

The  Queen  was  better,  though  still  lame ;  and  on 
a  fine  November  noontide  she  obtained,  by  earnest 
entreaty,  permission  to  gratify  her  longing  for  free  air 
by  taking  a  turn  in  what  was  called  the  Fetterlock 
Court,  from  the  Yorkist  badge  of  the  falcon  and  fetter- 
lock carved  profusely  on  the  decorations.  This  was  the 
inmost  strength  of  the  castle,  on  the  highest  ground, 
an  octagon  court,  with  the  keep  closing  one  side  of  it, 
and  the  others  surrounded  with  huge  massive  walls, 
shutting  in  a  greensward  with  a  well.  There  was 
a  broad  commodious  terrace  in  the  thickness  of  the 
walls,  intended  as  a  station  whence  the  defenders  could 
shoot  between  the  battlements,  but  in  time  of  peace 
forming  a  pleasant  promenade  sheltered  from  the  wind, 
and  catching  on  its  northern  side  the  meridian  rays  of 
this  Martinmas  summer  day,  so  that  physician  as  well 
as  jailer  consented  to  permit  the  captive  there  to  take 
the  air. 

"  Some  watch  there  must  be,"  said  Paulett  anxiously, 
when  his  colleague  reported  the  consent  he  had  given. 

"  It  will  suftice,  then,"  said  Sir  Drew  Drury,  "  if 
the  officer  of  the  guard — Talbot  call  you  him  ? — stands 


500  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP= 

at  tlie  angle  of  the  court,  so  as  to  keep  her  in  his  view. 
He  is  a  well-nurtured  youth,  and  will  not  vex  her." 

"  Let  him  have  the  guard  within  call,"  said  Paulett, 
and  to  this  Drury  assented,  perhaps  with  a  little 
amusement  at  the  restless  ^precautions  of  the  invalid. 

Accordingly,  Humfrey  took  up  his  station,  as  unob- 
trusively as  he  could,  at  the  corner  of  the  terrace,  and 
presently,  through  a  doorway  at  the  other  end  saw  the 
Qiiesh,  hooded  and  cloaked,  come  forth,  leaning  heavily 
on  the  arm  of  Dr.  Bourgoin,  and  attended  by  the  two 
Maries  and  the  two  elder  ladies.  She  moved  slowly, 
and  paused  every  few  steps,  gazing  round  her,  inhaling 
the  fresh  air  and  enjoying  the  sunshine,  or  speaking  a 
caressing  word  to  little  Bijou,  who  leaped  about,  and 
barked,  and  whined  with  delight  at  having  her  out  of 
doors  again.  There  was  a  seat '  in  the  wall,  and  her 
ladies  spread  cushions  and  cloaks  for  her  to  sit  on  it, 
warmed  as  it  was  by  the  sun  ;  and  there  she  rested, 
watching  a  starling  running  about  on  the  turf,  his 
gold-bespangled  green  plumage  glistening.  She  hardly 
spoke ;  she  seemed  to  be  making  the  most  of  the 
repose  of  the  fair  calm  day.  Humfrey  would  not 
intrude  by  making  her  sensible  of  his  presence,  but  he 
watched  her  from  his  station,  wondering  within  him- 
self  if  slie  cared  for  the  peril  to  which  she  had  exposed 
the  daughter  so  dear  to  him. 

Such  were  his  thoughts  when  an  angry  bark  from 
Bijou  warned  him  to  be  on  the  alert.  A  man  —  ay, 
one  of  the  new  men-at-arms — was  springing  up  the 
ramp  leading  to  the  summit  of  tlie  wall  almost  im- 
mediately in  front  of  the  little  group.  There  was  a 
gleam  of  steel  in  his  band.  With  one  long  rinoinG: 
whistle,  Humfrey  bounded  from  his  place,  and  at  the 
moment  when  the  ruffian  was  on  the  point  of  assailing 


XXXIX.]  THE  FETTERLOCK  COUET.  501 

the  Queen,  he  caught  him  with  one  hand  by  the  collar, 
with  the  other  tried  to  master  the  arm  that  held  the 
weapon.  It  was  a  sliarp  struggle,  for  the  fellow  was  a 
trained  soldier  in  the  full  strength  of  manhood,  and 
Humfrey  was  a  youth  of  twenty-three,  and  unarmed. 
They  went  down  together,  rolling  on  the  ground  before 
Mary's  chair ;  but  in  another  moment  Humfrey  was 
the  uppermost.  He  had  his  knee  on  the  fellow's  chest, 
and  held  aloft,  though  in  a  bleeding  hand,  the  dagger 
wrenched  from  him.  The  victory  had  been  won  in  a 
few  seconds,  before  the  two  men,  whom  his  whistle  had 
brought,  had  time  to  rush  forward.  They  were  ready 
now  to  throw  themselves  on  the  assailant.  "  Hold  !" 
cried  Humfrey,  speaking  for  the  first  time.  "  Hurt  him 
not !     Hold  him  fast  till  I  have  him  to  Sir  Amias  !" 

Each  had  an  arm  of  the  fallen  man,  and  Humfrey 
rose  to  meet  the  eyes  of  the  Queen  sparkling,  as  she 
cried,  "  Bravely,  bravely  done,  sir !  We  thank  you. 
Though  it  be  but  the  poor  remnant  of  a  worthless  life 
that  you  have  saved,  we  thank  you.  The  sight  of 
your  manhood  has  gladdened  us." 

Humfrey  bowed  low,  and  at  the  same  time  there 
was  a  cry  among  the  ladies  that  he  was  bleeding.  It 
was  only  his  hand,  as  he  showed  them.  The  dagger 
had  been  drawn  across  the  palm  before  he  could 
capture  it.  The  kerchiefs  were  instantly  brought 
forward  to  bind  it  up.  Dr.  Bourgoin  saying  that  it 
ought  to  have  Master  Gorion's  attention. 

"  I  may  not  wait  for  that,  sir,"  said  Humfrey.  "  I 
must  carry  this  villain  at  once  to  Sir  Amias  and 
report  on  the  affair." 

"  Nay,  but  you  will  come  again  to  be  tended," 
said  the  Queen,  wliile  Dr.  Bourgoin  fastened  the 
knot   of   the   temporary  baiidage       "  Ah  !    and   is   it 


502  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [cHAP 

Humfrey  Talbot  to  whom  I  owe  my  life  ?  There  ia 
one  who  will  thank  thee  for  it  more  than  even  I. 
But  come  back.  Gorion  must  treat  that  hand,  and 
then  you  will  tell  me  what  you  have  heard  of  her." 

"  Naught,  alas,  madam,"  "said  Humfrey  with  an 
expressive  shake  of  the  head,  but  ere  he  turned  away 
Mary  extended  her  hand  to  him,  and  as  he  bent  his 
knee  to  kiss  it  she  laid  the  other  kindly  on  his  dark 
curled  head  and  said,  "  God  bless  thee,  brave  youth." 

She  was  escorted  to  the  door  nearest  to  her  apart- 
ments, and  as  she  sank  back  on  her  day  bed  she  could 
not  help  murmuring  to  Mary  Seaton,  "  A  brave  laddie. 
Would  that  he  had  one  drop  of  princely  blood." 

"  The  Talbot  blood  is  not  amiss,"  said  the  lady. 

"  True ;  and  were  it  but  mine  own  Scottish  royalty 

that  were  in  question  I  should  see  naught  amiss,  but 

,  with  this  Englisli  right  that  hath  been  the  bane  of  us 

all,  what  can  their  love  bring  the  poor  children  save 

woe  ?" 

Meantime  Humfrey  was  conducting  his  prisoner  to 
Sir  Amias  Paulett.  The  man  was  a  bronzed,  tousjli- 
looking  ruffian,  with  an  air  of  having  seen  service,  and 
a  certain  foreign  touch  in  his  accent.  He  glanced 
somewhat  contemptuously  at  his  captor,  and  said, 
"  Neatly  done,  sir ;  I  marvel  if  you'll  get  any 
thanks." 

"  What  mean  you  ?"  said  Humfrey  sharply,  but  the 
fellow  only  shrugged  his  shoulders.  The  whole  affair 
had  been  so  noiseless,  that  Humfrey  brought  the  first 
intelligence  when  he  was  admitted  to  the  sick  chamber, 
where  Sir  Amias  sat  in  a  large  chair  by  the  fire.  He 
had  left  his  prisoner  guarded  by  two  men  at  tlie  door. 

"How  now!  What  is  it?"  cried  Paulett  at  first 
sight  of  his  bandaged  hand.      "  Is  she  safe  ?" 


XXXIX.]  THE  FETTEKLOCK  COUET,  503 

"  Even  so,  sir,  and  untouched,"  said  Humfrey. 

"  Thanks  be  to  God  !"  he  exclaimed.  "  This  is  what 
I  feared.      Who  was  it  ? " 

"One  of  the  new  men-at-arms  from  London — 
Peter  Pierson  he  called  himself,  and  said  he  had 
served  in  the  Netherlands." 

And  after  a  few  further  words  of  explanation, 
Humfrey  called  in  the  prisoner  and  his  guards,  and 
before  his  face  gave  an  account  of  his  attempt  upon 
the  helpless  Queen. 

"  Godless  and  murderous  villain !"  said  Paulett, 
"  what  hast  thou  to  say  for  thyself  that  I  should  not 
hang  thee  from  the  highest  tower  ?" 

"  Naught  that  will  hinder  you,  worshipful  seignior," 
returned  the  man  with  a  sneer.  "  In  sooth  I  see  no 
great  odds  between  taking  life  with  a  dagger  and  with 
an  axe,  save  that  fewer  folk  are  regaled  with  the 
spectacle." 

"  Wretch,"  said  Paulett,  "  wouldst  thou  confound 
private  murder  with  the  open  judgment  of  God  and 
man  ?" 

"  Judgment  hath  been  pronounced,"  said  the 
fellow,  "  but  it  needs  not  to  dispute  the  matter. 
Only  if  this  honest  youth  had  not  come  blundering  in 
and  cut  his  fingers  in  the  fray,  your  captive  would 
have  been  quietly  rid  of  all  her  troubles,  and  I  should 
have  had  my  reward  from  certain  great  folk  you  wot 
of.  Ay,"  as  Sir  Amias  turned  still  yellower,  "  you 
take  my  meaning,  sir." 

"  Take  him  away,"  said  Paulett,  collecting  himself ; 
"  he  would  cloak  his  crime  by  accusing  others  of  his 
desperate  wickedness." 

"Where,  sir?"  inquired  Humfrey. 

Sir  Amias  would  have  preferred  hanging  the  fellow 


504  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP,. 

without  inquiry,  but  as  Fotheringliay  was  not  under 
martial  law,  he  ordered  him  off  to  the  dungeons  for 
the  present,  wliile  the  nearest  justice  of  the  peace  was 
sent  for.  The  kniglit  bade  Humfrey  remain  while  the 
prisoner  was  walked  off  under  due  guard,  and  made  a 
few  more  inquiries,  adding,  with  a  sigh,  "  You  must 
double  the  guard,  Master  Talbot,  and  get  rid  of  all 
those  London  rogues — sons  of  Belial  are  they  all,  and 
I'll  have  none  for  whom  I  cannot  answer— lor  I  fear 
me  'tis  all  too  true  what  the  fellow  says." 

"Who  would  set  him  on  ?" 

"  That  I  may  not  say.  But  would  you  believe  it, 
Humfrey  Talbot,  I  have  been  blamed — ay,  rated  like 
a  hound,  for  that  I  will  not  lend  myself  to  a  privy 
murder." 

"Verily,  sir?" 

"  Yerily,  and  indeed,  young  man.  'Tis  the  part  of  a 
loyal  subject,  they  say,  to  spare  her  Majesty's  womanish 
feelings  and  her  hatred  of  bloodshed,  and  this  lady 
having  been  condemned,  to  take  her  off  secretly  so  as 
to  save  the  Queen  the  pain  and  heart -searchings,  of 
signing  the  warrant.  You  credit  me  not,  sir,  but  I  have 
the  letter — to  my  sorrow  and  shame." 

No  wonder  that  the  poor,  precise,  hard-hearted,  but 
religious  and  high-principled  man  was  laid  up  with 
a  fit  of  the  gout,  after  receiving  the  shameful  letter 
which  he  described,  which  is  still  extant,  signed  by 
Walsingham  and  Davison. 

"  Strange  loyalty,"  said  Humfrey. 

"  And  too  much  after  the  Spanish  sort  for  an 
English  Protestant,"  said  Sir  Amias.  "  I  made  answer 
that  I  would  lay  down  my  life  to  guard  this  unhappy 
woman  to  undergo  the  justice  that  is  to  be  done  upon 
her,  but  murder  her,  or  allow  her  to  be  slain  in  my 


XXXIX.]  THE  FETTERLOCK  COURT.  505 

hands,  I  r.eitlier  can  nor  will,  so  help  me  Heaven, 
as  a  true  though  sinful  man." 

"  Amen,"  said  Humfrey. 

•'■'  And  no  small  cause  of  thanks  have  I  that  in 
yoi,  young  sir,  I  have  one  who  may  he  trusted  for 
faith  as  well  as  courage,  and  I  need  not  say  dis- 
cretion." 

As  he  spoke,  Sir  Drew  Drury,  who  had  been  out 
riding,  returned,  anxious  to  hear  the  details  of  this 
strange  event.  Sir  Amias  could  not  leave  his  room. 
Sir  Drew  accompanied  Humfrey  to  the  Queen's  apart- 
ments to  hear  her  account  and  that  of  her  attendants. 
It  was  given  with  praises  of  the  young  gentleman 
which  put  him  to  the  blush,  and  Sir  Drew  then  gave 
permission  for  his  hurt  to  be  treated  by  Maitre  Gorion, 
and  left  him  in  the  antechamber  for  tlie  purpose. 

Sir  Amias  would  perhaps  have  done  more  wisely  if 
he  had  not  detained  Humfrey  from  seeing  the  criminal 
guarded  to  his  prison.  For  Sir  Drew  Drury,  going 
from  the  Queen's  presence  to  interrogate  the  fellow 
before  sending  for  a  magistrate,  found  the  cell  empty. 
It  had  been  the  turn  of  duty  of  one  of  the  new 
London  men-at-arms,  and  he  had  been  placed  as 
sentry  at  the  door  by  the  sergeant — the  stupidest  and 
trustiest  of  fellows — who  stood  gaping  in  utter  amaze- 
ment when  he  found  that  sentry  and  prisoner  were 
both  alike  missing. 

On  the  whole,  the  two  warders  agreed  that  it 
would  be  wiser  to  hush  up  the  matter.  When  Mary 
heard  that  the  man  had  escaped,  she  quietly  said,  "  I 
understand.  They  know  how  to  do  such  things  better 
abroad." 

Things  returned  to  their  usi.al  state  except  that 
Humfrey  had  permission  to  go  daily  to  have  his  hand 


506  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [OHAP 

attended  to  by  M.  Gorioii,  aud  the  Queen  never  let 
pass  this  opportunity  of  speaking  to  him,  though  the 
very  first  time  she  ascertained  that  he  knew  as  little 
as  she  did  of  the  proceedings  of  bis  fatlier  and  Cicely. 
Now,  for  the  first  time,  did  Humfrey  understand 
the  charm  that  had  captivated  Babington,  and  that 
even  his  father  confessed.  Ailinj?,  a^ing,  and  suffering 
as  she  was,  and  in  daily  expectation  of  her  sentence 
of  death,  there  was  still  something  more  wonderfully 
winning  about  her,  a  sweet  patlietic  cheerfulness,  kind- 
ness, and  resignation,  that  filled  liis  heart  with  devotion 
to  her.  And  then  she  spoke  of  Cicely,  the  rarest  and 
greatest  delight  that  he  could  enjoy.  She  evidently 
regarded  him  with  favour,  if  not  aftection,  because  he 
loved  the  maiden  whom  she  could  not  but  deny  to 
him.  Would  he  not  do  anything  for  her  ?  Ay, 
anything  consistent  with  duty.  And  there  came  a 
twinge  which  startled  him.  Was  she  making  him 
value  duty  less  ?  Never.  Besides,  how  few  days  he 
could  see  her.  His  hand  was  healing  all  too  fast, 
and  what  might  not  come  any  day  from  London  ? 
Was  Queen  Mary's  last  conquest  to  be  that  of  Humfrey 
Talbot  ? 


XL.1  THE  SENTENCK  607 


CHAPTEE   XL. 

THE   SENTENCE. 

The  tragedies  of  the  stage  compress  themselves  into  a 
few  hours,  but  the  tragedies  of  real  life  are  of  slow  and 
heavy  march,  and  the  heart-sickness  of  delay  and  hope 
and  dread  alike  deferred  is  one  of  their  chief  trials. 

Humfrey's  hurt  was  quite  well,  but  as  he  was  at 
once  trusted  by  his  superiors,  and  acceptable  to  the 
captive,  he  was  employed  in  many  of  those  lesser  com- 
munications between  her  and  her  keepers,  for  which  the 
two  knights  did  not  feel  it  necessary  to  harass  her  with 
their  presence.  His  post,  for  half  the  twenty-four  hours, 
was  on  guard  in  the  gallery  outside  her  anteroom  door ; 
but  he  often  knocked  and  was  admitted  as  bearer  of 
some  message  to  her  or  her  household  ;  and  equally 
often  was  called  in  to  hear  her  requests,  and  sometimes 
he  could  not  help  believing  because  it  pleased  her  to 
see  him,  even  if  there  were  nothing  to  tell  her, 

Nor  was  there  anything  known  until  the  19th  of 
November,  when  the  sound  of  horses'  feet  in  large  num- 
bers, and  the  blast  of  bugles,  announced  the  arri\'al  of 
a  numerous  party.  When  marshalled  into  the  ordinary 
dining-hall,  they  proved  to  be  Lord  Buckhurst,  a  dig- 
nified-looking nobleman,  who  bore  a  sad  and  grave 
countenance  full  of  presage,  with  Mr.  Beale,  the  Clerk 


508  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

of  the  Council,  and  two  or  three  other  officials  and 
secretaries,  among  whom  Humfrey  perceived  the  inevit- 
able Will  Cavendish. 

The  two  old  comrades  quickly  sought  each  other 
out,  Will  observing,  "  So  here  you  are  still,  Humfrey. 
We  are  like  to  see  the  end  of  a  long  story." 

"  How  so  ? "  asked  Humfrey,  with  a  thrill  of  horror, 
'•  is  she  sentenced  ?" 

"  By  the  Commissioners,  all  excepting  my  Lord 
Zouch,  and  by  both  houses  of  Parliament !  We  are 
come  down  to  announce  it  to  her.  I'll  hav(}  you  into 
the  presence-chamber  if  I  can  prevail.  It  will  be  a 
noteworthy  thing  to  see  how  the  daughter  of  a  hundred 
kings  brooks  such  a  sentence." 

"Hath  no  one  spoken  for  her?"  asked  Humfrey, 
thinking  at  least  as  much  of  Cicely  as  of  the  victim. 

"  The  King  of  Scots  hath  sent  an  ambassage," 
returned  Cavendish,  "  but  when  I  say  'tis  the  Master 
of  Gray,  you  know  what  that  means.  King  James 
may  be  urgent  to  save  his  mother — nay,  he  hath  written 
more  sharply  and  shrewishly  than  ever  he  did  before ; 
but  as  for  this  Gray,  whatever  he  may  say  openly,  we 
know  that  he  has  whispered  to  the  Queen,  '  The  dead 
don't  bite.' " 

"  The  villain !" 

"  That  may  be,  so  far  as  he  himself  is  concerned,  but 
the  counsel  is  canny,  like  the  false  Scot  himself.  What's 
this  I  hear,  Humfrey,  that  you  have  been  playing  the 
champion,  and  getting  wounded  in  the  defence  ?" 

"  A  mere  nothing,"  said  Humfrey,  opening  his  hand, 
however,  to  show  the  mark.  "  I  did  but  get  my  palm 
scored  in  hindering  a  villainous  man-at-arms  from 
slaying  the  poor  lady." 

"Yea,   well    are    thy    race   named    Talbot!"    said 


XL.]  THE  SENTENCE.  509 

Cavendish.  "  Sturdy  watch-dogs  are  ye  all,  with  never 
a  notion  that  sometimes  it  may  be  for  the  good  of  all 
parties  to  look  the  other  way." 

"  If  you  mean  that  I  am  to  stand  by  and  see  a  help- 
less woman " 

"  Hash  !  my  good  friend,"  said  Will,  holding  up  his 
hand.  "  I  know  thy  breed  far  too  well  to  mean  any 
sujh  thing.  Moreover,  thy  precisian  governor,  old 
l^aulett  there,  hath  repelled,  like  instigations  of 
Satan,  more  hints  than  one  that  pain  might  be  saved  to 
one  queen  and  publicity  to  the  other,  if  he  would  have 
taken  a  leaf  from  Don  Philip's  book,  and  permitted  the 
lady  to  be  dealt  with  secretly.  Had  he  given  an  ear 
to  the  matter  six  months  back,  it  would  have  spared 
poor  Antony." 

"  Speak  not  thus.  Will,"  said  Humfrey,  "  or  thou 
wilt  make  me  believe  thee  a  worse  man  than  thou  art, 
only  for  the  sake  of  showing  me  how  thou  art  versed 
in  state  policy.  Tell  me,  instead,  if  thou  hast  seen  my 
father." 

"  Thy  father  ?  yea,  verily,  and  I  have  a  packet  for 
thee  from  him.  It  is  in  my  mails,  and  I  will  give  it 
thee  anon.  He  is  come  on  a  bootless  errand !  As 
long  as  my  mother  and  my  sister  Mall  are  both  living, 
he  might  as  well  try  to  bring  two  catamounts  together 
without  hisses  and  scratches." 

"Where  is  he  lying?"  asked  Humfrey. 

"  In  Shrewsbury  House,  after  the  family  wont,  and 
Gilbert  makes  him  welcome  enough,  but  Mall  is  angered 
with  him  for  not  lodging  his  daughter  there  likewise  ! 
I  tell  her  he  is  afraid  lest  she  should  get  hold  of  the 
wench,  and  work  up  a  fresh  web  of  tales  against  this 
lady,  like  those  which  did  so  much  damage  before. 
'Twould  be  rare  if  she  made  out  that  Gravity  himself, 


510  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

in  the  person  of  old  Paulett,  had  been  entranced  by 
her." 

"  Peace  with  thy  gibes,"  said  Humfrey  impatiently, 
"  and  tell  me  where  my  sister  is." 

"  Where  thinkest  thou  ?  Of  all  strange  places  in 
the  world,  he  hath  bestowed  her  with  Madame  de  Sal- 
monnet,  the  wife  of  one  of  the  French  Ambassador's 
following,  to  perfect  her  French,  as  he  saith.  Canst  thou 
conceive  wherefore  he  doth  it  ?  Hath  he  any  marriage 
in  view  for  her  ?  Mall  tried  to  find  out,  but  he  is 
secret.     Tell  me,  Numps,  what  is  it  ?" 

"  If  he  be  secret,  must  not  I  be  the  same  ?"  said 
Humfrey,  laughing. 

"  Nay,  thou  owest  n:3  some  return  for  all  that  I 
have  told  thee." 

"  Marry,  Will,  that  is  more  like  a  maiden  than  a 
statesman  !  But  be  content,  comrade,  I  know  no  more 
than  thou  what  purposes  there  may  be  anent  my  sister's 
marriage,"  he  added.  "  Only  if  thou  canst  give  me  my 
father's  letter,  I  should  be  beholden  to  thee." 

They  were  interrupted,  however,  by  a  summons  to 
Humfrey,  who  was  to  go  to  tlie  aj^artments  of  the 
Queen  of  Scots,  to  bear  the  information  that  in  tlie 
space  of  half  an  hour  the  Lord  Buckhurst  and  Master 
Beale  would  do  themselves  the  honour  of  speaking  with 
her. 

"  So,"  muttered  Cavendish  to  himself  as  Humfrey 
went  up  the  stairs,  "  there  is  then  some  secret.  I 
marvel  what  it  bodes  !  Did  not  tliat  crafty  villain 
Langston  utter  some  sort  of  warning  which  I  spurned, 
knowing  the  Bridgefield  trustiness  and  good  faith  ? 
This  wench  hath  been  miglitily  favoured  by  the  lady. 
I  must  see  to  it." 

Meantime  Humfrey  had  been  admitted   to  Queen 


XL.]  THE  SENTENCE.  511 

Mary's  room,  where  she  sat  as  usual  at  hei  needlework. 
"  You  bring  me  tidings,  my  friend,"  she  said,  as  he  bent 
his  knee  before  her.  "  Methought  I  heard  a  fresh  stir 
in  the  Castle;  who  is  arrived?" 

"  The  Lord  Buckhurst,  so  please  your  Grace,  and 
Master  Beale.  They  crave  an  audience  of  your  Grace 
in  half  an  hour's  time." 

"  Yea,  and  I  can  well  guess  wherefore,"  said  the 
Queen.  "Well,  Fiat  volnntar  iua!  Buckhurst?  he  is 
kinsman  of  Elizabeth  on  the  Boleyn  side,  methinks  ! 
She  would  do  me  grace,  you  see,  my  masters,  by  sending 
me  such  tidings  by  her  cousin.  They  cannot  hurt  me  ! 
I  am  far  past  that !  So  let  us  have  no  tears,  my 
lassies,  but  receive  them  right  royally,  as  befits  a  mess- 
age from  one  sovereign  to  another  !  Remember,  it  is 
not  before  my  Lord  Buckhurst  and  Master  Beale  that 
we  sit,  but  before  all  posterities  for  evermore,  who  will 
hear  of  Mary  Stewart  and  her  wrongs.  Tell  them  I 
am  ready,  sir.  Nay  but,  my  son,"  she  added,  with  a 
very  different  tone  of  the  tender  woman  instead  of  the 
outraged  sovereign,  "  I  see  thou  hast  news  for  me.  Is 
it  of  the  child  ?" 

"  Even  so,  madam.  I  wot  little  yet,  but  what  I 
know  is  hopeful.  She  is  with  Madame  de  Salmonnet, 
wife  of  one  of  the  suite  of  the  French  Ambassador." 

"  Ah  !  that  speaketh  much,"  said  Mary,  smiling, 
"  more  than  you  know,  young  man.  Salmonnet  is 
sprung  of  a  Scottish  archer,  Jockie  of  the  salmon  net, 
whereof  they  made  in  France  M.  de  Salmonnet. 
Chateauneuf  must  have  owned  her,  and  put  her  under 
the  protection  of  the  Embassy.  Hast  thou  had  a  letter 
from  thy  father  ?" 

"  I  am  told  that  one  is  among  Will  Cavendish'3 
mails,  madam,  and  I  hope  to  have  it  anon." 


512  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOKY.  [CHAR 

"These  men  have  all  unawares  brought  with  them 
that  which  may  well  bear  me  up  through  whatever 
may  be  coming." 

A  second  message  arrived  from  Lord  Buckhurst 
himself,  to  say  how  grieved  he  was  to  be  the  bearer  of 
heavy  tidings,  and  to  say  that  he  would  not  presume 
to  intrude  on  her  IMajesty's  presence  until  she  would 
notify  to  him  tliat  she  was  ready  to  receive  him. 

"  They  have  become  courteous,"  said  Mary.  "  But 
why  should  we  dally  ?  The  sooner  this  is  over,  the 
better." 

The  gentlemen  were  then  admitted  :  Lord  Buck- 
hurst grave,  sad,  stately,  and  courteous ;  Sir  Amias 
Paulett,  as  usual,  grim  and  wooden  in  his  puritanical 
stiffness  ;  Sir  Drew  Drury  keeping  in  the  i)ackground 
as  one  grieved  ;  and  Mr.  Beale,  who  had  already  often 
harassed  the  Queen  before,  eager,  forward,  and  per- 
emptory, as  one  whose  exultation  could  hardly  be 
repressed  by  respect  for  his  superior.  Lord  Buckhurst. 

Bendimr  low  before  her,  th^s  nobleman  craved  her 
pardon  for  that  which  it  was  his  duty  to  execute ;  and 
liaving  kissed  her  hand,  in  token  of  her  personal  for- 
giveness, he  bade  Mr.  Beale  read  the  papers. 

The  Clerk  of  the  Council  stood  forth  almost  without 
obeisance,  till  it  was  absolutely  compelled  from  him  by 
Buckhurst.  He  read  aloud  the  details  of  the  judg- 
ment, that  Mary  had  been  found  guilty  by  the  Com- 
mission, of  conspiracy  against  the  kingdom,  and  the 
life  of  the  Queen,  with  the  sentence  from  the  High 
Court  of  Parliament  that  she  was  to  die  by  being 
beheaded. 

Mary  listened  with  unmoved  countenance,  only  she 
stood  up  and  made  solemn  protest  against  the  authority 
and  power  of  the  Commission  either  to  try  or  condemn 


XL.]  THE  SENTENCE.  513 

her.  Beale  was  about  to  reply,  but  Lord  Buckhurst 
checked  him,  telling  him  it  was  simply  his  business 
to  record  the  protest ;  and  then  adding  that  he  was 
cliarged  to  warn  her  to  put  away  all  hopes  of  mercy, 
and  to  prepare  for  death.  This,  he  said,  was  on  behalf 
of  his  Queen,  who  implored  her  to  disburthen  her 
cons'jience  by  a  full  confession.  "  It  is  not  her  work," 
added  Buckhurst ;  "  the  sentence  is  not  hers,  but  this 
thing  is  required  by  her  people,  inasmuch  as  her  life 
can  never  be  safe  while  your  Grace  lives,  nor  can  her 
religion  remain  in  any  security." 

Mary's  demeanour  had  hitherto  been  resolute.  Here 
a  brightness  and  look  of  thankful  joy  came  over  her, 
as  she  raised  her  eyes  to  Heaven  and  joined  her  hands, 
saying,  "  I  thank  you,  my  lord ;  you  have  made  it  all 
gladness  to  me,  by  declaring  me  to  be  an  instrument 
in  the  cause  of  ray  religion,  for  which,  unworthy  as  I 
am,  I  shall  rejoice  to  shed  my  blood." 

"Saint  and  martyr,  indeed!"  broke  out  Paulett. 
"  That  is  fine  !  when  you  are  dying  for  plotting  treason 
and  murder !" 

"  Nay,  sir,"  gently  returned  Mary,  "  I  am  not  so 
presumptuous  as  to  call  myself  saint  or  martyr  ;  but 
though  you  have  power  over  my  body,  you  liave  none 
over  my  soul,  nor  can  you  prevent  me  from  lioping 
that  by  the  mercy  of  Him  who  died  for  me,  my  blood 
and  life  may  be  accepted  by  Him,  as  olTerings  freely 
made  for  His  Churcli." 

She  then  begged  for  the  restoration  of  her  Almoner 
De  Preaux.  She  was  told  that  the  request  would 
be  referred  to  the  Queen,  but  that  slie  should  have 
the  attendance  of  an  English  Bishop  and  Dean. 
Paulett  was  so  angered  at  the  manner  in  wliich  slie 
had  met  the   doom,    that   he  began  to  threaten   hel 

2  L 


514  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

that  she  would  be  denied  all  that  could  serve  to  her 
idolatries. 

"  Yea,  verily,"  said  she  calmly,  "  I  am  aware  that 
the  English  have  never  been  noted  for  mercy." 

Lord  Buckhurst  succeeded  in  getting  th3  knight 
away  without  any  more  bitter  replies.  Humfrey  and 
Cavendish  had,  of  course,  to  leave  the  room  in  their 
train,  and  as  it  was  the  hour  of  guard  for  the  former, 
he  had  to  take  up  his  station  and  wait  with  what 
patience  he  could  until  it  should  please  Master  William 
to  carry  him  the  packet.  He  opened  it  eagerly,  standing 
close  beneath  the  little  lamp  that  illuminated  his  post, 
to  read  it :  but  after  all,  it  was  somewhat  disappointing, 
for  Mr.  Talbot  did  not  feel  tliat  absolute  confidence  in 
the  consciences  of  gentlemen -in-place  which  would 
make  him  certain  of  that  of  Master  Cavendish,  suppos- 
ing any  notion  should  arise  that  Cicely's  presence  in 
London  could  have  any  purpose  connected  with  the 
prisoner. 

"  To  my  dear  son  Humfrey,  greeting — 

"  I  do  you  to  wit  that  we  are  here  safely  arrived 
in  London,  though  we  were  forced  by  stress  of  weather 
to  tarry  seven  days  in  Hull,  at  the  house  of  good 
Master  Heatherthwayte,  where  we  received  good  and 
hospitable  entertainment.  The  voyage  was  a  fair  one, 
and  the  old  Mastiff  is  as  brave  a  little  vessel  as  ever 
she  was  wont  to  be  ;  but  thy  poor  sister  lay  abed  all 
the  time,  and  was  right  glad  when  we  came  into  smooth 
water.  We  have  presented  the  letters  to  those  whom 
we  came  to  seek,  and  so  far  matters  have  gone  with 
us  more  towardly  than  I  had  expected.  There  are 
those  who  knew  Cicely's  mother  at  her  years  who  say 
there  is  a  strange  likeness  between  them,  and  who  there- 


XL.]  THE  SENTENCE.  515 

fore  received  her  the  more  favourably.  I  am  lying  at 
present  at  Shrewsbury  House,  where  my  young  Lord 
makes  me  welcome,  but  it  hath  been  judged  meet  that 
thy  sister  shoidd  lodge  with  the  good  Madame  de 
Salmounet,  a  lady  of  Scottish  birth,  who  is  wile  to  one 
of  the  secretaries  of  M.  de  Chateauneuf,  the  French 
Ambassador,  but  who  was  bred  in  the  convent  of 
Soissons.  She  is  a  virtuous  and  honourable  lady,  and 
hath  taken  charge  of  thy  sister  while  we  remain  in 
London.  For  the  purpose  for  which  we  came,  it  goeth 
forward,  and  those  who  should  know  assure  me  that 
we  do  not  lose  time  here.  Diccon  commendeth  him- 
self to  thee;  he  is  well  in  health,  and  hath  much 
improved  in  all  his  exercises.  Mistress  Curll  is  lodging 
nigh  unto  the  Strand,  in  hopes  of  being  permitted  to 
see  her  husband  ;  but  that  hath  not  yet  been  granted  to 
her,  although  she  is  assured  that  he  is  well  in  health, 
and  Hke  ere  long  to  be  set  u-ee,  as  well  as  Monsieur 
Nau. 

"  We  came  to  London  the  day  after  the  Parliament 
had  pronounced  sentence  upon  the  Lady  at  Fother- 
inghay.  I  promise  you  there  was  ringing  of  bells  and 
firing  of  cannon,  and  lighting  of  bonfires,  so  that  we 
deemed  that  there  must  have  been  some  great  defeat 
of  the  Spaniard3  in  the  Low  Countries ;  and  when  we 
were  told  it  was  for  joy  that  the  Parliament  had  de- 
clared the  Queen  of  Scots  guilty  of  death,  my  poor 
Cicely  had  well-nigh  swooned  to  think  that  there 
could  be  such  joy  for  the  doom  of  one  poor  sick  lady. 
There  hath  been  a  petition  to  the  Queen  that  the 
sentence  may  be  carried  out,  and  she  hath  answered  in 
a  dubious  and  uncertain  manner,  which  leaves  ground 
for  hope  ;  and  the  King  of  Scots  hath  written  pressingly 
and  sent  the  Master  of  Gray  to  speak  in  his  mother's 


516  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOItY.  [CHAP 

behalf ;  also  M.  de  Cbateauneuf  liatli  both  urged  mercy 
on  the  Queen,  and  so  written  to  France  that  King 
Henry  is  sending  an  Ambassador  Extraordinary,  M.  de 
Bellievre,  to  intercede  for  her. 

"  I  send  these  presents  by  favour  of  Master  Caven- 
dish, who  will  tell  thee  more  than  I  have  here  space 
to  set  down,  and  can  assure  thee  that  nothing  hasty  is 
like  to  be  done  in  the  business  on  which  he  hath  come 
down  with  these  gentlemen.  And  so  no  more  at  present 
from  thy  loving  father,  Eichard  Talbot." 

Humfrey  had  to  gather  what  he  could  from  this 
letter,  but  he  had  no  opportunity  of  speech  with  the 
prisoner  on  the  remainder  of  that  day,  nor  on  the  next, 
until  after  Lord  Buckhurst  and  his  followers  had  left 
Fotheringhay,  bearing  with  them  a  long  and  most  touch- 
ing letter  from  the  prisoner  to  Queen  Elizabeth. 

On  that  day,  Paulett  worked  himself  up  to  the 
strange  idea  that  it  was  for  the  good  of  the  unfortunate 
prisoner's  soul,  and  an  act  of  duty  to  his  own  sovereign, 
to  march  into  the  prison  chamber  and  announce  to 
Queen  Mary  that  being  a  dead  woman  in  the  eye  of 
the  law,  no  royal  state  could  be  permitted  her,  in  token 
of  which  he  commanded  her  servants  to  remove  the 
canopy  over  her  chair.  They  all  flatly  refused  to  touch. 
it,  and  the  women  began  to  cry  "  Out  upon  him,"  foi 
being  cowardly  enough  to  insult  their  mistress ;  and 
she  calmly  said,  "  Sir,  you  may  do  as  you  please.  My 
royal  state  comes  from  God,  and  is  not  yours  to  give  or 
take  away.  I  shall  die  a  Queen,  whatever  you  may 
do  by  such  law  as  robbers  in  a  forest  might  use  with  a 
rigliteous  judge." 

Intensely  angered.  Sir  Amias  came,  hobbling  and 
stumbling  out  to  the  door,  pale  with  rage,  and  called 


XL.]  THE  SENTENCE.  517 

ou  Talbot  to  come  and  bring  his  men  to  tear  down  the 
rag  of  vanity  in  which  this  contumacious  woman  put 
her  trust. 

"  The  men  are  your  servants,  sir,"  said  Humfrey, 
with  a  flush  on  his  cheek  and  his  teeth  set ;  "  I  am 
here  to  guard  the  Queen  of  Scots,  not  to  insult  her." 

"  How,  sirrah  ?  Do  you  know  to  whom  you  speak  ? 
Have  you  not  sworn  obedience  to  me  ? " 

"  In  all  things  within  my  commission,  sir ;  but  this 
is  as  much  beyond  it,  as  I  believe  it  to  be  beyond 
yours." 

"  Insolent,  disloyal  varlet !  You  are  under  ward 
till  I  can  account  with  and  discharge  you.  To  your 
chamber !" 

Humfrey  could  but  walk  away,  grieved  that  his 
power  of  bearing  intelligence  or  alleviation  to  the 
prisoner  had  been  forfeited,  and  that  he  should  probably 
not  even  take  leave  of  her.  Was  she  to  be  left  to  all 
the  insults  that  the  malice  of  her  persecutor  could 
devise  ?  Yet  it  was  not  exactly  malice.  Paulett  would 
have  guarded  her  life  from  assassination  with  his  own, 
though  chiefly  for  his  own  sake,  and,  as  he  said,  for  that 
of  "saving  his  poor  posterity  from  so  foul  a  blot ;"  but  he 
could  not  bear,  as  he  told  Sir  Drew  Drury,  to  see  the 
Popish,  bloodthirsty  woman  sit  queening  it  so  calmly ; 
and  when  he  tore  down  her  cloth  of  state,  and  sat  down 
in  her  presence  with  his  hat  on,  he  did  not  so  much 
intend  to  pain  the  woman,  Mary,  as  to  express  the 
triumph  of  Elizabeth  and  of  her  religion.  Humfrey  be- 
lieved his  service  over,  and  began  to  occupy  himself  with 
putting  his  clothes  together,  while  considering  whether 
to  seek  his  father  in  London  or  to  go  home.  After 
about  an  hour,  he  w^as  summoned  to  the  hall,  where 
he  expected  to  have  found  Sir  Amias  Paulett  ready  to 


518  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [OlIAP. 

give  him  Lis  discharge.  He  found,  however,  orJy  Sir 
Drew  Drury,  wlio  thus  accosted  him — "  Young  man, 
you  had  better  return  to  your  duty.  Sir  Amias  is 
willing  to  overlook  what  passed  this  morning.' 

"  I  thank  you,  sir,  but  I  am  not  aware  of  having 
done  aught  to  need  forgiveness,"  said  Humfrey. 

"  Come,  come,  my  fair  youth,  stand  not  on  these 
points.  'Tis  true  my  good  colleague  hath  an  excess  of 
zeal,  and  I  could  wish  he  could  have  found  it  in  his 
heart  to  leave  the  poor  lady  these  marks  of  dignity 
that  hurt  no  one.  I  would  have  no  hand  in  it,  and  I 
am  glad  thou  wouldst  not.  He  knoweth  that  he  had 
no  power  to  require  such  service  of  thee.  He  will 
say  no  more,  and  I  trust  that  neither  wilt  thou ;  for  it 
would  not  be  well  to  change  warders  at  this  time. 
Another  might  not  be  so  acceptable  to  the  poor  lady, 
and  I  would  fain  save  her  all  that  I  can." 

Humfrey  bowed,  and  thanked  "  him  of  milder 
mood,"  nor  was  any  further  notice  taken  of  this  hasty 
dismissal. 

When  next  he  had  to  enter  the  Queen's  apartments, 
the  absence  of  all  the  tokens  of  her  royal  rank  was  to 
him  truly  a  shock,  accustomed  as  he  had  been,  from 
his  earliest  childhood,  to  connect  them  with  her,  and 
knowing  what  their  removal  signified. 

Mary,  who  was  writing,  looked  up  as,  with  cap  in 
hand,  he  presented  himself  on  one  knee,  his  head  bowed 
lower  than  ever  before,  perhaps  to  hide  the  tear  that 
had  sprung  to  his  eye  at  sight  of  her  pale,  patient 
countenance. 

"  How  now,  sir  ?"  she  said.  "  This  obeisance  i", 
out  of  place  to  one  already  dead  in  law.  Don  your 
bonnet.      There  is  no  queen  here  for  an  Englishman." 

"  Ah !    madam,  suffer  me.      My  reverence   cannot 


XL.]  THE  SENTENCE.  519 

but  be  greater  than  ever,"  faltered  Humfrey  from  his 
very  lieart,  his  words  lost  in  the  kiss  he  printed  on 
the  hand  she  granted  him. 

Mary  bent  "  her  gray  discrowned  head,"  crowned 
in  his  eyes  as  the  Queen  of  Sorrows,  and  said  to  Marie 
de  Courcelles,  who  stood  behind  her,  "  Is  it  not  true, 
ma  mie,  that  our  griefs  have  this  make-weight,  namely, 
that  they  prove  to  us  whose  are  the  souls  whose 
generosity  is  above  all  price !  And  what  saith  thy 
good  father,  my  Humfrey  ?" 

He  had  not  ventured  on  bringing  the  letter  into 
the  apartments,  but  he  repeated  most  of  the  substance 
of  it,  without,  however,  greatly  raising  the  hopes  of 
the  Queen,  though  she  was  gratified  that  her  cause 
was  not  neglected  either  by  her  son  or  by  her  brother- 
in-law. 

"  They,  and  above  all  my  poor  maid,  will  be  com- 
forted to  have  done  their  utmost,"  she  said ;  "  but  I 
scarcely  care  that  they  should  prevail.  As  I  have 
written  to  my  cousin  Elizabeth,  I  am  beholden  to 
her  for  ending  my  long  captivity,  and  above  all  for 
conferring  on  me  the  blessings  and  glories  of  one  wdio 
dies  for  her  faith,  all  unworthy  as  I  am !"  and  she 
clasped  her  hands,  while  a  rapt  expression  came  upon 
her  countenance. 

Her  chief  desire  seemed  to  be  that  neither  Cicely 
nor  her  foster-father  should  run  into  danger  on  her 
account,  and  she  much  regretted  that  she  had  not  been 
able  to  impress  upon  Humfrey  messages  to  that  effect 
before  he  wrote  in  answer  to  his  father,  sending  his 
letter  by  Cavendish. 

"  Thou  wilt  not  write  again  ?"  she  asked. 

"  I  doubt  its  being  safe,"  said  Humfrey.  "  I  durst 
not  speak  openly  even  in  the  scroll  I  sent  yesterday." 


520  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOEY.  [CHAP. 

Then  Mary  recurred  to  the  power  which  he  possessed 
of  visiting  Sir  Andrew  Melville  and  the  Almoner, 
the  Abbe  de  Preaux,  who  were  shut  up  in  the  Fetter- 
lock tower  and  court,  and  requested  him  to  take  a  billet 
which  she  had  written  to  the  latter.     The  request  came 

like  a  blow  to  the  young  man.     "  With  permission " 

he  began, 

"  I  tell  thee,"  said  Mary,  "  this  concerns  naught 
but  mine  own  soul.  It  is  nothing  to  the  State,  but  all 
and  everything  to  me,  a  dying  woman." 

"  Ah,  madam  !     Let  me  but  obtain  consent." 

"  "What !  go  to  Paulett  that  he  may  have  occasion 
to  blaspheme  my  faith  and  insult  me  !"  said  the  Queen, 
offended. 

"  I  should  go  to  Sir  Drew  Drury,  who  is  of  another 
mould,"  said  Humfrey 

"  But  who  dares  not  lift  a  finger  to  cress  his  fellow," 
said  Mary,  leaning  back  resignedly. 

"  And  this  is  the  young  gentleman's  love  for  your 
Grace  !"  exclaimed  Jean  Kennedy. 

"Nay,  madam,"  said  Humfrey,  stung  to  the  quick, 
"  but  I  am  sworn  !" 

"  Let  him  alone,  Nurse  Jeanie  !"  said  Mary.  "  He 
is  like  the  rest  of  the  English.  They  know  not  how 
to  distinguish  between  the  spirit  and  the  letter !  I 
understand  it  all,  though  I  had  thought  for  a  moment 
that  in  him  there  was  a  love  for  me  and  mine  that 
would  perceive  that  I  could  ask  nothing  that  could 
damage  his  honour  or  his  good  faith.  I — who  had 
almost  a  mother's  love  and  trust  in  him." 

"  Madam,"  cried  Humfrey,  "  you  know  I  would  lay 
down  my  life  for  you,  but  I  cannot  break  my  trust." 

"  Your  trust,  fule  laddie  !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Kennedy. 
"  Ane  wad  think  the  Queen  speired  of  ye  to  cany  a 


XL.]  THE  SENTENCE.  521 

letter  to  Mendoza  to  burn  and  slay,  instead  of  a  bit 
scart  of  the  pen  to  ask  the  good  father  for  his  prayers^ 
or  the  like  !  But  you  are  all  alike ;  ye  will  not  stir  a 
hand  to  aid  her  poor  soul." 

"  Pardon  me,  madam,"  entreated  Humfrey.  "  The 
matter  is,  not  what  the  letter  may  bear,  but  how  my  oath 
binds  me  !  I  may  not  be  the  bearer  of  aught  in  writing 
from  this  chamber.  'Twas  the  very  reason  I  would 
not  bring  in  my  father's  letter.  Madam,  say  but  you 
pardon  me." 

"  Of  course  I  pardon  you,"  returned  Mary  cokuy. 
"  I  have  so  much  to  pardon  that  I  can  well  forgive  the 
lukewarmness  and  precision  that  are  so  bred  in  your 
nature  that  you  cannot  help  them.  I  pardon  injuries, 
and  I  may  well  try  to  pardon  disappointments.  Fare 
you  well,  Mr.  Talbot ;  may  your  fidelity  have  its  reward 
from  Sir  Amias  Paulett." 

Humfrey  was  obliged  to  quit  the  apartment,  cruelly 
wounded,  sometimes  wondering  whether  he  had 
really  acted  on  a  harsh  selfish  punctilio  in  cutting  off 
the  dying  woman  from  the  consolations  of  religion, 
and  thus  taking  part  with  the  persecutors,  while  his 
heart  bled  for  her.  Sometimes  it  seemed  to  him  as  if 
he  had  been  on  the  point  of  earning  her  consent  to 
his  marriage  with  her  daughter,  and  had  thrown  it 
away,  and  at  other  moments  a  horror  came  over  him 
lest  he  was  being  beguiled  as  poor  Antony  had  been 
before  him.  And  if  he  let  his  faith  slip,  how  should  he 
meet  his  father  again  ?  Yet  his  affection  for  the 
Queen  repelled  this  idea  like  a  cruel  injury,  while,  day 
by  day,  it  was  renewed  pain  and  grief  to  be  treated 
by  her  with  the  gentlest  and  most  studied  courtesy, 
but  no  longer  as  almost  one  of  her  own  inner  circle  of 
friends  and  coiifidants. 


522  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

And  as  Sir  Andrew  Melville  was  in  a  few  days 
more  restored  to  her  service,  he  was  far  less  often 
required  to  bear  messages,  or  do  little  services  in  the 
prison  apartments,  and  he  felt  himself  excluded,  and 
cut  off  from  the  intimacy  that  had  been  very  sweet, 
and  even  a  little  hopeful  to  him. 


xll]  her  royal  highness.  523 


CHAPTEE   XLL 

HER   ROYAL   HIGHNESS. 

Cicely  had  been  living  in  almost  as  much  suspense  in 
London  as  her  mother  at  Fotheringhay.  For  greater 
security  Mr.  Talbot  had  kept  her  on  board  the  Mastiff 
till  he  had  seen  M.  d'Aubepine  Chateauneuf,  and 
presented  to  him  Queen  Mary's  letter.  The  Ambas- 
sador, an  exceedingly  polished  and  graceful  Frenchman, 
was  greatly  astonished,  and  at  first  incredulous ;  but 
he  could  not  but  accept  the  Queen's  letter  as  genuine, 
and  he  called  into  his  counsels  his  Secretary  De 
Salmonnet,  an  elderly  man,  whose  wife,  a  Scotswoman 
by  birth,  preferred  her  husband's  society  to  the 
delights  of  Paris.  She  was  a  Hamilton  who  l^ad  been 
a  pensionnaire  in  the  convent  at  Soissons,  and  she 
knew  that  it  had  been  expected  that  an  infant  from 
Lochleven  might  be  sent  to  the  Abbess,  but  that  it 
had  never  come,  and  that  after  many  months  of 
waiting,  tidings  had  arrived  that  the  vessel  which 
carried  the  babe  had  been  lost  at  sea. 

M  de  Chateauneuf  thereupon  committed  the  in- 
vestigation to  her  and  her  husband.  Richard  Talbot 
took  them  first  to  the  rooms  where  Mrs.  Barbara  Curll 
had  taken  up  her  abode,  so  as  to  be  near  her  husband, 
who  was  still  a  prisoner  in  Walsingham's  house.      She 


524  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

fully  confirmed  all  that  Mr.  Talbot  said  of  the  Queen's 
complete  acceptance  of  Cis  as  her  daughter,  and  more- 
over consented  to  come  with  the  Salmonnets  and  Mr. 
Talbot,  to  visit  the  young  lady  on  board  the  Mastiff. 

Accordingly  they  went  down  the  river  together  in  Mr. 
Talbot's  boat,  and  found  Cicely,  well  cloaked  and  muffled, 
sitting  under  an  awning,  under  the  care  of  old  Goatley, 
who  treated  her  like  a  little  queen,  and  was  busy  explain- 
ing to  her  all  the  different  craft  which  filled  the  river. 

She  sprang  up  with  the  utmost  delight  at  the  sight 
of  Mrs.  Curll,  and  threw  herseK  into  her  arms.  There 
was  an  interchange  of  inquiries  and  comments  that^ 
unpremeditated  as  they  were — could  not  but  convince 
the  auditor  of  the  terms  on  which  the  young  lady  had 
stood  with  Queen  Mary  and  her  suite. 

Afterwards  Cicely  took  the  two  ladies  to  her  cabin, 
a  tiny  box,  but  not  uncomfortable  according  to  her 
habits,  and  there,  on  Barbara's  persuasion,  she  per- 
mitted Madame  de  Salmonnet  to  see  the  monograms  on 
her  shoulders.  The  lady  went  home  convinced  of  her 
identity,  and  came  again  the  next  day  with  a  gentle- 
man in  slouched  hat,  mask,  and  cloak. 

As  Cicely  rose  to  receive  him  he  uttered  an  exclama- 
tion of  irrepressible  astonishment,  then  added,  "  Your 
Highness  will  pardon  me.  Exactly  thus  did  her  royal 
mother  stand  when  I  took  leave  of  her  at  Calais." 

The  Ambassador  had  thus  been  taken  by  storm, 
although  the  resemblance  was  more  in  figure  and 
gesture  than  feature,  but  Mrs.  Curll  could  aver  that 
those  who  had  seen  Bothwell  were  at  no  loss  to  trace 
the  derivation  of  the  dark  brows  and  somewhat  homely 
features,  in  which  the  girl  differed  from  the  royal  race 
of  Scotland. 

What  was  to  be  done  ?     Queen  Mary's  letter  to 


XIJ.]  HER  ROYAL  HIGHNESS.  525 

him  begged  him  so  far  as  was  possible  to  give  her 
French  protection,  and  avoid  compromising  "  that  ex- 
cellent Talbot,"  and  he  thought  it  would  be  wisest  for 
her  to  await  the  coming  of  the  Envoy  Extraordinary, 
M.  de  Pomponne  Bellievre,  and  be  presented  by  him. 
In  the  meantime  her  remaining  on  board  ship  in  this 
winter  weather  would  be  miserably  uncomfortable,  and 
Itichmond  and  Greenwich  were  so  near  that  any  inter- 
course with  her  would  be  dangerous,  especially  if 
Langston  was  still  in  England.  Lodgings  or  inns 
where  a  young  lady  from  the  country  could  safely  be 
bestowed  were  not  easily  to  be  procured  without 
greater  familiarity  with  the  place  than  Mr.  Talbot 
possessed,  and  he  could  as  little  think  of  placing  her 
with  Lady  Talbot,  whose  gossiping  tongue  and  shrewish 
temper  were  not  for  a  moment  to  be  trusted.  Therefore 
M.  de  Chateauneuf's  proposal  tliat  the  young  lady  sliould 
become  Madame  de  Salmonnet's  guest  at  the  embassy 
was  not  unwelcome.  The  lady  was  elderly,  Scottish, 
and,  as  M.  de  Chateauueuf  with  something  of  a 
shudder  assured  Mr.  Talbot,  "  most  respectable."  And 
it  was  hoped  that  it  would  not  be  for  long.  So, 
having  seen  her  safely  made  over  to  the  lady's  care, 
Eichard  ventured  for  the  first  time  to  make  his  pre- 
sence in  London  known  to  his  son,  and  to  his  kindred ; 
and  he  was  the  more  glad  to  have  her  in  these  quarters 
l)ecause  Diccori  told  him  that  there  was  no  doubt  that 
Langston  was  lurking  about  the  town,  and  indeeil  he 
was  convinced  that  he  had  recognised  that  spy  entering 
Walsinghani's  house  in  the  dress  of  a  scrivener.  He 
would  not  alarm  Cicely,  but  he  bade  her  keep  all 
her  goods  in  a  state  ready  for  immediate  departure,  in 
case  it  should  be  needful  to  leave  London  at  once  after 
seeing  the  Queen. 


526  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CIIAP. 

Tlie  Frencli  Ambassador's  abode  was  an  old  con- 
ventual building  on  the  riverside,  consisting  of  a 
number  of  set?  of  separate  chambers,  like  those  of  a 
college,  openiiig  on  a  quadrangle  in  the  centre,  and 
with  one  side  occupied  by  the  state  apartments  and 
chapel.  This  arrangement  eminently  suited  the 
French  suite,  every  one  of  whom  liked  to  have  his 
own  little  arrangements  of  cookery,  and  to  look  after 
his  own  7narmitc  in  his  own  way,  all  being  alike 
horrified  at  the  gross  English  diet  and  lack  of  vege- 
tables. Many  tried  experiments  in  the  way  of  grow- 
ing salads  in  little  gardens  of  their  own,  with  little 
heed  to  the  once  beautiful  green  grass-plot  wliich  they 
broke  up. 

Inside  that  gate  it  was  like  a  new  country,  and  as 
all  the  shrill  thin  intonations  of  the  French  rang  in 
her  ears.  Cicely  could  hardly  believe  that  she  had — 
she  said — only  a  brick  wall  between  her  and  old 
England. 

M.  de  Salmonnet  was  unmistakably  a  Scot  by 
descent,  though  he  had  never  seen  the  land  of  his 
ancestors.  His  grandfather  had  been  ennobled,  but 
only  belonged  to  the  lesser  order  of  the  noblesse,  being 
exempted  from  imposts,  but  not  being  above  employ- 
ment, especially  in  diplomacy.  He  had  acted  as 
secretary,  interpreter,  and  general  factotum,  to  a  whole 
succession  of  ambassadors,  and  thus  his  little  loge,  as 
he  called  it,  had  become  something  of  a  home.  His 
wife  had  once  or  twice  before  had  to  take  charge  of 
young  ladies,  French  or  English,  who  were  confided 
to  the  embassy,  and  she  had  a  guest  chamber  for 
them,  a  small  room,  but  with  an  oriel  window  over- 
hanging the  Thames  and  letting  in  the  southern  sun, 
so  as  almost  to  compensate  for  the  bareness  of  the  rest, 


xll]  iiek  royal  highness.  527 

where  there  was  nothing  but  a  square  box-bed,  a  chest, 
and  a  few  toilette  essentials,  to  break  upon  the  dulness 
of  the  dark  wainscoted  walls.  Madame  herself  came 
to  sleep  with  her  guest,  for  lonely  nights  were  regarded 
with  dread  in  those  times,  and  indeed  she  seemed  to 
regard  it  as  her  duty  never  to  lose  sight  of  her  charge 
for  a  moment. 

Madame  de  Salmonnet's  proper  bed-cliamber  was 
tlie  only  approach  to  this  little  room,  but  that  mattered 
the  less  as  it  was  also  the  parlour !  The  bed,  likewise 
a  box,  was  in  the  far-off  recesses,  and  the  family  were 
up  and  astir  long  before  the  November  sun.  Dressed 
Madame  could  scarcely  be  called — the  costume  in  which 
she  assisted  Babette  and  queer  wizened  old  Pierrot  in 
doing  the  morning's  work,  horrified  Cicely,  used  as  she 
was  to  Mistress  Susan's  scrupulous  neatness.  Down- 
stairs there  was  a  sort  of  olHce  room  of  Monsieur's, 
where  the  family  meals  were  taken,  and  behind  it  an 
exceedingly  small  kitchen,  where  Madame  and  Pierrot 
performed  marvels  of  cookery,  surpassing  those  of  Queen 
Mary's  five  cooks. 

Cicely  longed  to  assist  in  them,  and  after  a  slight 
demur,  she  was  permitted  to  do  so,  chiefly  because  her 
duenna  could  not  otherwise  watch  her  and  the  confec- 
tions at  the  same  time.  Cis  could  never  make  out  wdietlier 
it  was  as  princess  or  simply  as  maiden  that  she  was  so 
closely  watched,  for  Madame  bristled  and  swelled  like  a 
mother  cat  about  to  spring  at  a  strange  dog,  if  any  gentle- 
man of  the  suite  shov,-ed  symptoms  of  accosting  her. 
Nay,  when  Mr.  Talbot  once  brought  Diccon  in  with  liim, 
and  there  was  a  greeting,  which  to  Cicely's  mind  was 
dismally  cold  and  dry,  the  lady  was  so  scandalised  that 
Cicely  was  obliged  formally  to  tell  her  that  she  would 
answer  for  it  to  the  Queen.    On  Sunday,  IMr.  Talljot  always 


528  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP, 

came  to  take  her  to  church,  and  this  wa:5  a  terrible  griev- 
ance to  Madame,  though  it  was  to  Cicely  the  one  refresh- 
ment of  the  week.  If  it  had  been  only  the  being  out 
of  hearing  of  her  hostess's  incessant  tongue,  the  walk 
would  have  been  a  refreshment.  Madame  de  Salmonuet 
had  been  transported  from  home  so  young  that  she  was 
far  more  French  than  Scottish  ;  she  was  a  small  woman 
full  of  activity  and  zeal  of  all  kinds,  though  perhaps 
most  of  all  for  her  pot  an  feu.  She  was  busied  about 
her  domestic  affairs  morning,  noon,  and  night,  and  never 
ceased  chattering  the  whole  time,  till  Cicely  began  to 
regard  the  sound  like  the  clack  of  the  mill  at  Bridge- 
field.  Yet,  talker  as  she  was,  she  was  a  safe  woman, 
and  never  had  been  known  to  betray  secrets.  Indeed, 
much  more  of  her  conversation  consisted  of  speculations 
on  the  tenderness  of  the  poultry,  or  the  freshness  of  the 
fish,  than  of  anything  that  went  much  deeper.  She 
did,  however,  spend  much  time  in  describing  the  habits 
and  customs  of  the  pensioners  at  Soissons  ;  the  maigre 
food  they  had  to  eat ;  their  tricks  upon  the  elder  and 
graver  nuns,  and  a  good  deal  besides  that  was  amusing 
at  first,  but  which  became  rather  wearisome,  and  made 
Cicely  wonder  what  either  of  her  mothers  would  have 
thought  of  it. 

The  excuse  for  all  this  was  to  enable  the  maiden  to 
make  lier  appearance  before  Queen  Elizabeth  as  freshly 
l)rought  from  Soissons  by  her  mother's  danger.  Mary, 
herself  had  suggested  this,  as  removing  all  danger  from 
the  Talljots,  and  as  making  it  easier  for  ^he  French 
Embassy  to  claim  and  protect  Cis  herself;  and  M.  le 
Chateauneuf  had  so  far  acquiesced  as  to  desire  Madame 
de  Salmonnet  to  see  whether  the  young  lady  could  be 
prepared  to  assume  the  character  before  eyes  that  would 
not  be  over  qualified  to  judge.      Cis,  however,  had 


xll]  her  royal  highness.  529 

always  been  passive  when  the  proposal  was  made,  and 
the  more  she  heard  from  Madame  de  Salmon  net,  the 
more  averse  she  was  to  it.  The  only  consideration 
that  seemed  to  her  in  its  favour  was  the  avoidance  of 
implicating  her  foster-father,  but  a  Sunday  morning 
spent  with  him  removed  the  scruple. 

"  I  know  I  cannot  feign,"  she  said.  "  They  all  used 
to  laugh  at  me  at  Chartley  for  being  too  much  of  the 
downriglit  mastiff  to  act  a  part." 

"  1  am  right  glad  to  hear  it,"  said  Eichard. 

"  Moreover,"  added  Cicely,  "  if  I  did  try  to  turn  my 
words  with  the  Scottish  or  French  ring,  I  wot  that  the 
sight  of  the  Queen's  Majesty  and  my  anxiety  would 
drive  out  from  me  all  I  should  strive  to  remember,  and 
I  should  falter  and  utter  mere  folly ;  and  if  she  saw 
I  was  deceiving  her,  there  would  be  no  hope  at  all. 
Nay,  how  could  I  ask  God  Almighty  to  bless  my  doing 
with  a  lie  in  my  mouth  ?" 

"  There  spake  my  Susan's  own  maid,"  said  Eichard. 
"'Tis  the  joy  of  my  heart  that  tliey  have  not  been  able 
to  teach  thee  to  lie  with  a  good  grace.  Trust  my 
word,  my  wench,  truth  is  the  only  wisdom,  and  one 
would  have  thought  they  might  have  learnt  it  by  this 
time." 

"  I  only  doubted,  lest  it  should  be  to  your  damage, 
dear  father.      Can  they  call  it  treasan  ?" 

"  I  trow  not,  my  child.  The  worst  that  coiild  hap 
w^ould  be  that  I  might  be  lodged  in  prison  a  while,  or 
have  to  pay  a  fine  ;  and  liefer,  far  liefer,  would  I  under- 
go the  like  than  that  those  lips  of  thine  should  learn 
guile.  I  say  not  that  there  is  safety  for  any  of  us, 
least  of  all  for  thee,  my  poor  maid,  but  the  danger  is 
tenfold  increased  by  trying  to  deceive ;  and,  moreover, 
it  cannot  be  met  with  a  good  conscience." 

2  M 


530  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOEY.  [CHAP. 

"  Moreover,"  said  Cicely,  "  I  have  pleadings  and 
promises  to  make  on  my  mother-queen's  behalf  that 
would  come  strangely  amiss  if  I  had  to  feign  that  I 
had  never  seen  her !  May  I  not  seek  the  Queen  at 
once,  without  waiting  for  this  French  gentleman  ? 
Then  would  this  weary,  weary  time  be  at  an  end  ! 
Each  time  I  hear  a  bell,  or  a  cannon  shot,  I  start  and 
think.  Oh !  has  she  signed  the  warrant  ?  Is  it  too 
late?" 

"  There  is  no  fear  of  that,"  said  Eichard  ;  "  I  shall 
know  from  Will  Cavendish  the  instant  aught  is  done, 
and  through  Diccon  I  could  get  thee  brought  to  the 
Queen's  very  chamber  in  time  to  plead.  Meantime, 
the  Queen  is  in  many  minds.  She  cannot  bear  to  give 
up  her  kinswoman ;  she  sits  apart  and  mutters,  '  Aut 
fer  aut  feri,'  and  '  He  feriare  feri.'  Her  ladies  say 
she  tosses  and  sighs  all  night,  and  hath  once  or  twice 
awoke  shrieking  that  she  was  covered  with  blood.  It 
is  Burghley  and  Walsingham  who  are  forcing  tliis  on,  and 
not  her  free  will.  Strengthen  but  her  better  will,  and  let 
her  feel  herself  secure,  and  she  will  spare,  and  gladly." 

"  That  do  I  hope  to  do,"  said  Cicely,  encouraged. 

The  poor  girl  had  to  endure  many  a  vicissitude  and 
heart-sinking  before  M.  de  Belli^vre  appeared ;  and 
when  he  did  come,  he  was  a  disappointment. 

He  was  a  most  magnificent  specimen  of  the  mignons 
of  Heuri's  court.  The  Embassy  rang  with  stories  of 
the  number  of  mails  he  had  brought,  of  the  milk  baths 
he  sent  for,  the  gloves  he  slept  in,  tlie  valets  who 
tweaked  out  superfluous  hairs  from  his  eyebrows,  the 
delicacies  required  for  his  little  dogs. 

M.  de  Salmonnet  reported  that  on  hearing  the  story 
of  "  Mademoiselle,"  as  Cicely  was  called  in  the  Em- 
bassy, he  had  twirled  the  waxed  ends  of  his  moustaches 


XLI.]  HEIl  EOYAL  HIGHNESS.  531 

into  a  a  tirical  twist,  and  observed,  "That  is  well 
found,  and  may  serve  as  a  last  resource." 

He  never  would  say  that  he  disbelieved  what  he 
was  told  of  her ;  and  when  presented  to  her,  he  be- 
haved with  an  exat^gferated  deference  which  ancjered 
her  intensely,  for  it  seemed  to  her  mockery  of  her  pre- 
tensions. No  doubt  his  desire  was  that  Mary's  hfe 
should  be  granted  to  the  intercession  of  his  king  rather 
than  to  any  other  consideration  ;  and  therefore  once, 
twice,  thrice,  he  had  interviews  wdth  Elizabeth,  and 
still  he  would  not  take  the  anxious  suppliant,  who  was 
in  an  agony  at  each  disappointment,  as  she  watched 
the  gay  barge  float  down  the  river,  and  who  began  to 
devise  setting  forth  alone,  to  seek  the  Queen  at 
Eichmond  and  end  it  all !  She  would  have  done  so, 
but  that  Diccon  told  her  that  since  the  alarm  caused 
by  Barnwell,  it  had  become  so  much  more  difficult  to 
approach  the  Queen  that  she  would  have  no  hope. 

But  she  was  in  a  restless  state  that  made  Madame 
de  Salmonnet's  chatter  ahiiost  distracting,  when  at 
last,  far  on  in  January,  M.  de  Salmonnat  came  in. 

"  Well,  mademoiselle,  tlie  moment  is  come.  The 
passports  are  granted,  but  Monsieur  the  Ambassador 
Extraordinary  has  asked  for  a  last  private  audience, 
and  he  prays  your  Highness  to  be  ready  to  accompany 
him  at  nine  of  the  clock  to-morrow  morning." 

Cicely's  first  thought  was  to  send  tidings  to  Mr. 
Talbot,  and  in  this  M.  de  Salmonnet  assisted  her, 
though  his  wife  thought  it  very  superfluous  to  drag  in 
the  great,  dull,  heavy,  English  sailor.  The  girl  longed 
for  a  sight  and  speech  of  him  all  that  evening  in  vain, 
though  she  was  sure  she  saw  the  Mastiff's  boat  pass 
down  the  river,  and  most  earnestly  did  she  wish  she 
could  liave  had  her  chamber  to  herself  for  the  prayers 


532  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOKY.  [CHAP. 

and  preparations,  on  which  Madame's  tongue  broke  so 
intolerably  that  she  felt  as  if  she  should  ere  long  be 
wild  and  senseless,  and  unable  to  recollect  anything. 

She  had  only  a  little  peace  when  Madame  rose 
early  in  the  morning  and  left  her,  thinking  her  asleep, 
for  a  brief  interval,  which  gave  her  time  to  rally  her 
thoughts  and  commend  herself  to  her  only  Guide. 

She  let  Madame  dress  her,  as  had  been  determined, 
in  perfectly  plain  black,  with  a  cap  that  would  have 
suited  "  a  novice  out  of  convent  shade."  It  was  cer- 
tainly the  most  suitable  garb  for  a  petitioner  for  her 
mother's  life.  In  her  hand  she  took  the  Queen's  letter, 
and  the  most  essential  proofs  of  her  birth.  She  was 
cloaked  and  hooded  over  all  as  warmly  as  possible  to 
encounter  the  cold  of  the  river :  and  Madame  de  Sal- 
monnet,  sighing  deeply  at  the  cold,  arranged  herself  to 
chaperon  her,  and  tried  to  make  her  fortify  herself  with 
food,  but  slie  was  too  tremulous  to  swallow  anything 
but  a  little  bread  and  wine.  Poor  child !  She  felt 
frightfully  alone  amongst  all  those  foreign  tongues, 
above  all  when  the  two  ambassadors  crossed  the  court 
to  M.  de  Salmonnet's  little  door.  Bellievre,  rolled  up 
in  splendid  sables  from  head  to  foot,  bowed  down  to 
the  ground  before  her,  almost  sweeping  the  pavement 
with  his  plume,  and  asked  in  his  deferential  voice  of 
mockery  if  her  Eoyal  Highness  would  do  him  the 
honour  of  accepting  his  escort. 

Cicely  bent  her  head  and  said  in  French,  "  I  tliank 
you,  sir,"  giving  him  her  hand  ;  and  there  was  a  grave 
dignity  in  the  action  that  repressed  him,  so  that  he  did 
not  speak  again  as  he  led  her  to  the  barge,  which  was 
covered  in  at  the  stern  so  as  to  afford  a  shelter  fi'om  the 
wind. 

Her  quick  eye  detected  the  Mastiff's  boat  as  she 


xll]  her  royal  highness.  533 

was  handed  down  the  stairs,  and  this  was  some  relief, 
while  she  was  placed  in  the  seat  of  honour,  with  an 
ambassador  on  each  side  of  her. 

"  May  I  ask,"  demanded  Bellievre,  waving  a  scented 
handkerchief,  "what  her  Highness  is  prepared  to  say, 
in  case  I  have  to  confirm  it  ?" 

"  I  thank  your  Excellency,"  replied  Cicely,  "  but  I 
mean  to  tell  the  simple  truth ;  and  as  your  Excellency 
has  had  no  previous  knowledge  of  me,  I  do  not  see 
how  you  can  confirm  it." 

The  two  gentlemen  looked  at  one  another,  and 
Chateauneuf  said,  "  Do  I  understand  her  Royal  High- 
ness that  she  does  not  come  as  the  pensionnaire  from 
Soissons,  as  the  Queen  had  recommended  ?" 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Cicely ;  "  I  have  considered  the 
matter,  and  I  could  not  support  the  character.  All 
that  I  ask  of  your  Excellencies  is  to  bring  me  into  the 
presence  of  Queen  Elizabeth.  I  will  do  the  rest  my- 
self, with  the  help  of  God." 

"  Perhaps  she  is  right,"  said  the  one  ambassador  to 
the  other.     "  These  English  are  incomprehensible  !" 


534  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAI. 


CHAPTER    XLII. 

THE  SUPPLICATION. 

In  due  time  the  boat  drew  up  at  the  stairs  leading  to 
the  palace  of  Eichmond.  Cicely,  in  the  midst  of  her 
trepidation,  perceived  that  Diccon  was  among  the 
gentlemen  pensioners  who  made  a  lane  from  the  land- 
ing to  receive  them,  as  she  was  handed  along  by  M.  de 
Bellievre.  In  the  hall  there  was  a  pause,  during 
which  the  mufflings  were  thrown  off,  and  Cicely 
appeared  in  her  simple  black,  a  great  contrast  to  her 
cavalier,  who  was  clad  from  neck  to  knee  in  pale  pink 
satin,  quilted,  and  with  a  pearl  at  each  intersection, 
earrings  in  his  ears,  perfumed  and  long-fringed  gloves 
in  his  hand — a  perfect  specimen  of  the  foppery  of  the 
Court  of  France.  However,  he  might  have  been  in 
hodden  gray  without  her  perceiving  it.  She  had  the 
sensation  of  having  plunged  into  deep,  unknown  waters, 
without  rope  or  plank,  and  being  absolutely  forced  to 
strike  out  for  herself;  yet  the  very  urgency  of  the 
moment,  acting  on  her  high  blood  and  recent  training, 
made  her,  outwardly,  perfectly  self-possessed  and  calm. 
She  walked  along,  holding  her  head  in  the  regal 
manner  that  v/as  her  inheritance,  and  was  so  utterly 
absorbed  in  the  situation  that  she  saw  nothing,  and 
thought  only  of  the  Queen. 


XLII.]  THE  SUPPLICATION.  535 

This  was  to  be  a  private  audience,  and  after  a 
minute's  demur  with  the  clerk  of  the  chamber,  when 
Chateauneuf  made  some  explanation,  a  door  was 
opened,  a  curtain  withdrawn,  and  the  two  ambassadors 
and  the  .  young  lady  were  admitted  to  Elizabeth's 
closet,  where  she  sat  alone,  in  an  arm-chair  with  a 
table  before  her.  Cicely's  first  glance  at  the  Queen 
reminded  her  of  the  Countess,  though  the  face  was 
older,  and  had  an  intellect  and  a  grandeur  latent  in 
it,  such  as  Bess  of  Hardwicke  had  never  possessed ; 
but  it  was"  haggard  and  w^orn,  the  eyelids  red,  either 
with  weeping,  or  with  sleeplessness,  and  there  was  an 
anxious  look  about  the  keen  light  hazel  eyes  which 
was  sometimes  almost  pathetic,  and  gave  Cicely  hope. 
To  the  end  of  her  days  she  never  could  recollect  how 
the  Queen  was  arrayed ;  she  saw  nothing  but  the 
expression  in  those  falcon  eyes,  and  the  strangely 
sensitive  mouth,  which  bewrayed  the  shrewish  nose 
and  chin,  and  the  equally  inconsistent  firmness  of  the 
jaw. 

The  first  glance  Cicely  encountered  was  one  of 
utter  amazement  and  wrath,  as  the  Queen  exclaimed, 
"  Whom  have  you  brought  hither,  Messieurs  ?" 

Before  either  could  reply,  she,  whom  they  had 
thought  a  raw,  helpless  girl,  moved  forward,  and  kneel- 
ing before  Elizabeth  said,  "  It  is  I,  so  please  your 
Majesty,  I,  who  have  availed  myself  of  the  introduc- 
tion of  their  Excellencies  to  lay  before  your  ]\Iajesty  a 
letter  from  my  mother,  the  Queen  of  Scots." 

Queen  Elizabeth  made  so  vehement  and  incredulous 
an  exclamation  of  amazement  that  Cicely  was  the 
more  reminded  of  the  Countess,  and  this  perliaps 
made  her  task  the  easier,  and  besides,  she  was  not  an 
untrained   rustic,  but  had  really  been  accustomed  to 


536  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

familiar  intercourse  with  a  queen,  who,  captive  as  slie 
was,  maintained  full  state  and  etiquette. 

She  therefore  made  answer  with  dignity,  "  If  it  will 
please  your  Majesty  to  look  at  this  letter,  you  will  see 
the  proofs  of  what  I  say,  and  that  I  am  indeed  Bride 
He])l.»iiru,  the  daughter  of  Queen  Mary's  last  marriage. 
I  was  born  at  Lochleven  on  the  20th  of  February  of 
the  year  of  gTace  1567,^  and  thence  secretly  sent  in 
tlie  Bride  of  Dunbar  to  be  bred  up  in  France.  The 
ship  was  wrecked,  and  all  lost  on  board,  but  I  was,  by 
the  grace  of  God,  picked  up  by  a  good  and  gallant 
gentleman  of  my  Lord  of  Shrewsbury's  following. 
Master  liichard  Talbot  of  Bridgefield,  who  brought  me 
up  as  his  own  daughter,  all  unknowing  whence  I 
came  or  who  I  was,  until  three  years  ago,  when  one  of 
the  secret  agents  who  had  knowledge  of  the  affairs  of 
the  Queen  of  Scots  made  known  to  her  that  I  was  the 
babe  who  had  been  embarked  in  the  Bride  of  Dimhar." 

"  Verily,  thou  must  be  a  bold  wench  to  expect  me 
to  believe  such  a  mere  minstrel's  tale,"  said  Elizabeth. 

"  Nevertheless,  madam,  it  is  the  simple  truth,  as 
you  will  see  if  you  deign  to  open  this  packet." 

"  And  who  or  where  is  this  same  honourable  gentle- 
man who  brought  you  up — Eichard  Talbot  ?  I  have 
heard  that  name  before  ! " 

"  He  is  here,  madam.      He  will  confirm  all  I  say." 

Tlie  Queen  touched  a  little  bell,  and  ordered  Master 
Talbot  of  Bridgefield  to  be  brought  to  her,  while, 
hastily  casting  lier  eyes  on  the  credentials,  she 
demanded  of  Chuteauneuf,  "  Knew  you  aught  of  this, 
si:?" 

"  I  know  only  what  the  Queen  of  Scotland  has 
written  and  what  this  Monsieur  Talbot  has  told  me, 
^  1568  according  to  our  Calendar. 


XLII.]  THE  SUPPLICATION.  537 

madam,"  said  Chateaimeuf.  "There  can  be  no  doubt 
that  the  Queen  of  Scotland  has  treated  her  as  a 
daughter,  and  owns  her  for  such  in  her  letter  to  me, 
as  well  as  to  your  Majesty." 

"And  the  letters  are  no  forgery?" 

"Mine  is  assuredly  not,  madam;  I  know  the 
private  hand  of  the  Queen  of  Scots  too  well  to  be 
deceived.  Moreover,  Madame  Curll,  the  wife  of  the 
Secretary,  and  others,  can  speak  to  the  manner  in 
which  this  young  lady  was  treated." 

"  Openly  treated  as  a  daughter !  That  paese?, 
sir.  My  faithful  subjects  would  never  have  left  me 
uninformed  !" 

"  So  please  your  Majesty,"  here  the  maiden  ventured, 
"  I  have  always  borne  the  name  of  Cicely  Talbot,  and 
no  one  knows  what  is  my  real  birth  save  those  who 
were  with  my  mother  at  Lochleven,  excepting  Mrs. 
Curll.  The  rest  even  of  her  own  attendants  only 
understood  me  to  be  a  Scottish  orphan.  My  true 
lineage  should  never  have  been  known,  were  it  not  a 
daughter's  duty  to  plead  for  her  mother." 

By  this  time  Mr.  Talbot  was  at  the  door,  and  he 
was  received  by  the  Queen  with,  "  So  ho !  Master  Tal- 
bot, how  is  this  ?  You,  that  have  been  vaunted  to  us 
as  the  very  pink  of  fidelity,  working  up  a  tale  that 
smacks  mightily  of  treason  and  leasing!" 

"  The  truth  is  oft  stranger  than  any  playwright 
can  devise,"  said  Eichard,  as  he  knelt. 

"  If  it  be  truth,  the  worse  for  you,  sir,"  said  the 
Queen,  hotly.  "  What  colour  can  you  give  to  thus 
hiding  one  who  might,  forsooth,  claim  royal  blood, 
tainted  though  it  be  ?" 

"  Pardon  me,  your  Grace.  For  many  years  I  knew 
not  who  the  babe  was  whom  I  had   taken  from  the 


538  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

wreck,  and  when  the  secret  of  her  birth  was  discovered,' 
I  deemed  it  not  mine  own  but  that  of  the  Queen  of 
Scots." 

"  A  captive's  secrets  are  not  her  own,  and  are  only- 
kept  by  traitors,"  said  Elizabeth,  severely. 

At  this  Cicely  threw  herself  forward  with  glowing 
cheeks.  "  Madam,  madam,  traitor  never  was  named  in 
the  same  breath  with  Master  Talbot's  name  before.  If 
he  kept  the  secret,  it  was  out  of  pity,  and  knowing  no 
hurt  could  come  to  your  Majesty  by  it." 

"  Thou  hast  a  tongue,  wench,  be  thou  who  thou 
mayst,"  said  Elizabeth  sharply.  "  Stand  back,  and  let 
him  tell  his  own  tale." 

Eichard  very  briefly  related  the  history  of  the 
rescue  of  the  infant,  which  he  said  he  could  confirm 
by  the  testimony  of  Goatley  and  of  Heatherthwayte. 
He  then  explained  how  Langston  had  been  present 
when  she  was  brought  home,  and  had  afterwards  made 
communications  to  the  Queen  of  Scots  that  led  to  the 
girl,  already  in  attendance  on  her,  being  claimed  and 
recognised ;  after  which  he  confessed  that  he  had  not 
the  heart  to  do  what  might  separate  the  mother  and 
daughter  by  declaring  their  relationship.  Elizabeth 
meanwhile  was  evidently  comparing  his  narrative  with 
the  letters  of  the  Queen  of  Scots,  asking  searching 
questions  here  and  there. 

She  made  a  sound  of  perplexity  and  annoyance  at 
the  end,  and  said,  "  This  must  be  further  inquired  into." 

Here  Cicely,  fearing  an  instant  dismissal,  clasped 
her  hands,  and  on  her  knees  exclaimed,  "  JVIadam  I  it 
will  not  matter.  No  trouble  shall  ever  be  caused  by 
my  drop  of  royal  blood  ;  no  one  shall  ever  even  know 
that  Bride  of  Scotland  exists,  save  the  few  who  now 
know  it,  and  have  kept  the  secret  most  faithfully.     I 


xlil]  the  supplication.  539 

seek  no  state ;  all  I  ask  is  my  mother's  life.  0 
madam,  would  you  but  see  her,  and  speak  with  her,  you 
would  know  how  far  from  her  thoughts  is  any  evil  to 
your  royal  person  ! " 

"  Tush,  wench !  we  know  better.  Is  this  thy 
lesson  ?" 

"  None  hath  taught  me  any  lesson,  madam.  I 
know  what  my  mother's  enemies  have,  as  they  say, 
proved  agaiust  her,  and  I  know  they  say  that  while  she 
lives  your  Grace  cannot  be  in  security." 

"  That  is  what  moves  my  people  to  demand  her 
death,"  said  Elizabeth. 

"  It  is  not  of  your  own  free  will,  madam,  nor  of 
your  own  kind  heart,"  cried  Cicely.  "  That  I  well  know ! 
And,  madam,  I  will  show  you  the  way.  Let  but  my 
mother  be  escorted  to  some  convent  abroad,  in  France 
or  Austria,  or  anywhere  beyond  the  reach  of  Spain,  and 
her  name  should  be  hidden  from  everyone !  None  should 
know  where  to  seek  her.  Not  even  the  Abbess  should 
know  her  name.  She  would  be  prisoned  in  a  ceU,  but  she 
would  be  happy,  for  she  would  have  life  and  the  free 
exercise  of  her  religion.  No  English  Papist,  no  Leaguer, 
none  should  ever  trace  her,  and  she  would  disquiet  you 
no  more." 

"  And  who  is  to  answer  that,  when  once  beyond 
English  bounds,  she  should  not  stir  up  more  trouble 
than  ever?"  demanded  Elizabeth. 

"Tliat  do  I,"  said  the  girl.  "Here  am  I,  Bride 
Hepburn,  ready  to  live  in  your  Majesty's  hands  as  a 
hostage,  whom  you  might  put  to  death  at  the  first 
stirring  on  her  behalf." 

"  Silly  maid,  we  have  no  love  of  putting  folk  to 
death,"  said  Elizabeth,  rather  hurt.  "  That  is  only  for 
traitors,  when  they  forfeit  our  mercy." 


540  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CIIAP 

"  Then,  0  madam,  madam,  what  has  been  done 
in  her  name  cannot  forfeit  mercy  for  lier !  She  was 
shut  up  in  prison ;  I  was  with  her  day  and  niglit,  and 
I  know  she  had  naught  to  do  with  any  evil  purpose 
towards  your  Majesty.  Ah !  you  do  not  believe  me  ! 
I  know  they  have  found  her  guilty,  and  tltat  is  not 
what  I  came  to  say,"  she  continued,  getting  bewildered 
in  her  earnestness  for  a  moment.  "  No.  But,  gracious 
Queen,  you  have  spared  her  often ;  I  have  heard  her 
say  that  you  had  again  and  again  saved  her  life  from 
those  who  would  fain  have  her  blood." 

"  It  is  true,"  said  Elizabeth,  half  softened. 

"  Save  her  then  now,  madam,"  entreated  the  girl. 
"  Let  her  go  beyond  their  reach,  yet  where  none  shall 
find  her  to  use  her  name  against  you.  Let  me  go  to 
her  at  Fotheringhay  with  these  terms.  She  will  consent 
and  bless  and  pray  for  you  for  ever ;  and  here  am  1, 
ready  to  do  what  you  will  with  me !" 

"  To  hang  about  Court,  and  be  found  secretly 
wedded  to  some  base  groom  !" 

"Ko,  madam.  I  give  you  my  solemn  word  as  a 
Queen's  daughter  that  I  will  never  wed,  save  by  your 
consent,  if  my  mother's  life  be  granted.  The  King  of 
Scots  knows  not  that  there  is  such  a  being.  He  need 
never  know  it.  I  will  thank  and  bless  you  whether 
you  throw  me  into  the  Tower,  or  let  me  abide  as  the 
humblest  of  your  serving -women,  under  the  name  I 
have  always  borne,  Cicely  Talbot." 

"  Foolish  maid,  thou  mayest  purpose  as  thou  sayest, 
but  T  know  what  wenches  are  made  of  too  well  to 
trust  thee." 

"  Ah  madam,  pardon  me,  but  you  know  not  how 
strong  a  maiden's  heart  can  be  for  a  mother's  sake. 
Madam !  you  have  never  seen  my  mother.     If  you 


XLII.]  THE  SUPPLICATION.  541 

but  knew  her  patience  and  her  tenderness,  you  would 
know  how  not  only  I,  but  every  man  or  woman  in  her 
train,  would  gladly  lay  down  life  and  liberty  for  her, 
could  we  but  break  her  bonds,  and  win  her  a  shelter 
among  those  of  her  own  faith." 

"Art  a  Papist?"  asked  the  Queen,  observing  the 
pronoun. 

"  Not  so,  an't  please  your  Majesty.  This  gentle- 
man bred  me  up  in  our  own  Church,  nor  would  I 
leave  it." 

"  Strange — strange  matters,"  muttered  Elizabeth, 
"  and  they  need  to  be  duly  considered." 

"  I  will  then  abide  your  Majesty's  pleasure,"  said 
Cicely,  "  craving  license  that  it  may  be  at  Fotheringhay 
with  my  mother.  Then  can  I  bear  her  the  tidings, 
and  she  will  write  in  full  her  consent  to  these  terms. 

0  madam,  I  see  mercy  in  your  looks.  lieceive  a 
daughter's  blessing  and  thanks  !" 

"  Over  fast,  over  fast,  maiden.     Who  told  thee  that 

1  had  consented  ?" 

"  Your  Majesty's  own  countenance,"  replied  Cicely 
readily.  "  I  see  pity  in  it,  and  the  recollection  that 
all  posterity  for  evermore  will  speak  of  the  clemency 
of  Elizabeth  as  the  crown  of  all  her  glories  !" 

"  Child,  child,"  said  the  Queen,  really  moved, 
"  Heaven  knows  that  I  would  gladly  practise  clemency 
if  my  people  would  suffer  it,  but  they  fear  for  my  life, 
and  still  more  for  themselves,  were  I  removed,  nor  can 
I  blame  them." 

"  Your  Majesty,  I  know  that.  But  my  mother 
would  be  dead  to  the  world,  leaving  her  rights  solemnly 
made  over  to  her  son.  None  would  know  where  to 
find  her,  and  she  would  leave  in  your  hands,  and  thosa 
of  the  Parliament,  a  resignation  of  all  her  claims." 


542  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOKY.  [^JHAP. 

"  And  Avould  she  do  this  ?  Am  I  to  take  it  on  thy 
word,  girl  ?" 

"Your  Majesty  knows  this  ring,  sent  to  her  at 
Lochleven,"  said  Cicely,  holding  it  np.  "  It  is  the 
pledge  that  she  binds  herself  to  these  conditions.  Oh  ! 
let  me  but  bear  them  to  her,  and  you  shall  have  them 
signed  and  sealed,  and  your  Majesty  will  know  the 
sweet  bliss  of  pardoning.  May  I  carry  the  tidings  to 
her  ?  I  can  go  with  this  gentleman  as  Cis  Talbot 
returning  to  her  service." 

Elizabeth  bent  her  head  as  though  assenting 
thoughtfully. 

"How  shall  I  thank  you,  gracious  Queen?"  cried 
Cicely,  joining  hands  in  a  transport,  but  Elizabeth 
sharply  cut  her  short. 

"  What  means  the  wench  ?  I  have  promised 
nothing.  I  have  only  said  I  will  look  into  this 
strange  story  of  thine,  and  cousider  this  proposal — ■ 
that  is,  if  thy  mother,  as  thou  callest  her,  truly  intend 
it — ay,  and  will  keep  to  it." 

"  That  is  all  I  could  ask  of  your  Majesty,"  said 
Cicely.  "  The  next  messenger  after  my  return  shall 
carry  her  full  consent  to  these  conditions,  and  there 
will  I  abide  your  pleasure  until  the  time  comes  for  her 
to  be  conducted  to  her  cod  vent,  if  not  to  see  your  face, 
which  would  be  best  of  all.  0  madam,  what  thanks 
will  be  worthy  of  such  a  grace  ?" 

"  Wait  to  see  whether  it  is  a  grace,  little  cousin,"  said 
Elizabeth,  but  with  a  kiss  to  the  young  round  cheek, 
and  a  friendliness  of  tone  that  surprised  alL  "  Mes- 
sieurs," slie  added  to  the  ambassadors,  "  you  came,  if  I 
mistake  not,  to  bring  me  this  young  demoiselle." 

"  Who  has,  I  hope,  pleaded  more  effectually  than 
I,"  returned  Bellievre. 


xlil]  the  supplication.  543 

"  I  have  made  no  promises,  sir,"  said  the  Queen, 
drawing  herself  up  proudly. 

"  Still  your  Majesty  forbids  us  not  to  hope,"  said 
Chateauneuf. 

Wherewith  they  found  themselves  dismissed. 

There  was  a  great  increase  of  genuine  respect  in 
the  manner  in  which  Bellievre  handed  the  young  lady 
from  the  Queen's  chamber  through  the  gallery  and 
hall,  and  finally  to  the  boat.  No  one  spoke,  for  there 
were  many  standing  around,  but  Cicely  coidd  read  in 
a  glance  that  passed  between  the  Frenchmen  that  they 
were  astonished  at  her  success.  Her  own  brain  was 
in  a  whirl,  her  heart  beating  high  ;  she  could  hardly 
realise  what  had  passed,  but  when  again  placed  in  the 
barge  the  first  words  she  heard  were  from  Bellievre. 
"  Your  Eoyal  Highness  will  permit  me  to  congratulate 
you."  At  the  same  time  she  saw,  to  her  great  joy, 
that  M.  de  Chateauneuf  had  caused  her  foster-father 
to  enter  the  barge  with  them.  "  If  the  Queen  of 
Scotland  were  close  at  hand,  the  game  would  be  won," 
said  Bellievre, 

"  Ah  !  Milord  Treasurer  and  M.  le  Secretaire  are  far 
too  cunning  to  have  let  her  be  within  reach,"  said 
Chateauneuf. 

"  Could  we  but  have  bound  the  Queen  to  anything," 
added  Bellievre. 

"  That  she  always  knows  how  to  avoid,"  said  the 
resident  ambassador. 

"  At  least,"  said  Cicely,  "  she  has  permitted  that  I 
should  bear  the  terms  to  my  mother  at  Fotheringhay." 

"  That  is  true,"  said  Chateauneuf,  "  and  in  my 
opinion  no  time  should  be  lost  in  so  doing.  I  doubt," 
he  added,  looking  at  Eichard,  "  whetlier,  now  tliat  her 
Highness's  exalted  rank  is  known,  the  embassy  will 


544  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOKY.  [CHAP. 

"be  permitted  to  remain  a  slielter  to  her,  in  case  the 
Queen  should  demand  her  of  me." 

"  Your  Excellency  speaks  my  thought,"  said 
Richard.  "  I  am  even  disposed  to  believe  that  it 
would  be  wiser  to  begin  our  journey  this  very  day." 

"  I  grieve  for  the  apparent  inhospitality  and  dis- 
respect to  one  whom  I  honour  so  highly,"  said  Chateau- 
neuf,  "  but  I  verily  believe  it  would  be  the  wiser  plan. 
Look  you,  sir,  the  enemies  of  the  nnfortunate  Queen  of 
Scotland  have  done  all  in  their  power  to  hinder  my 
colleague  from  seeing  the  Queen,  but  to-day  the  Lord 
Treasurer  is  occupied  at  Westminster,  and  Monsieur  le 
Secretaire  is  sick.  She  sent  for  us  in  one  of  those  wilful 
moods  in  which  she  chooses  to  assert  herself  without 
their  knowledge,  and  she  remains,  as  it  were,  stunned 
by  the  surprise,  aud  touched  by  her  Eoyal  Highness's 
pleading.  But  let  these  gentlemen  discover  what  has 
passed,  or  let  her  recover  and  send  for  tliem,  and  bah  ! 
they  will  inquire,  and  messengers  will  go  forth  at  once 
to  stop  her  Highness  and  yourself.  All  will  be  lost. 
But  if  you  can  actually  be  on  the  way  to  this  castle 
before  they  hear  of  it — and  it  is  possible  you  may  have 
a  full  day  in  advance — they  will  be  unable  to  hinder 
the  conditions  from  being  laid  before  the  Queen  of 
Scots,  and  we  are  witnesses  of  what  tliey  were." 

"  Oh,  let  us  go  !  let  us  go  at  once,  dear  sir,"  en- 
treated Cicely.  "I  burn  to  carry  my  mother  this 
hope." 

It  was  not  yet  noon,  so  early  had  been  the  audience, 
and  dark  and  short  as  were  the  days,  it  was  quite 
possible  to  make  some  progress  on  the  journey  before 
night.  Cicely  had  kept  the  necessaries  for  her  journey 
ready,  and  so  had  Mr.  Talbot,  even  to  the  purchase  of 
horses,  which  were  in  the  Shrewsbury  House  stables. 


XLII.]  THE  SUPPLICATION.  545 

The  rest  of  the  mails  could  be  fetched  by  the  Mastiff's 
crew,  and  brought  to  Hull  under  charge  of  Goatley. 
Madame  de  Saln^onnet  was  a  good  deal  scandalised 
at  Son  Altesse  Eoyale  going  off  with  only  a  male  escort, 
and  to  Cicely's  surprise,  wept  over  her,  and  prayed  aloud 
that  she  might  have  good  success,  and  bring  safety 
and  deliverance  to  the  good  and  persecuted  Queen 
for  whom  she  had  attempted  so  much. 

"  Sir,"  said  Chateauneuf,  as  he  stood  beside  Eichard, 
waiting  till  the  girl's  preparations  were  over,  "  if  there 
could  have  been  any  doubts  of  the  royal  lineage  of  your 
charge,her  demeanour  to-day  would  have  disproved  them. 
She  stood  there  speaking  as  an  equal,  all  undaunted 
before  that  Queen  before  whom  all  tremble,  save  when 
they  can  cajole  her." 

"  She  stood  there  in  the  strength  of  truth  and  inno- 
cence," said  Eichard. 

Whereat  the  Frenchman  again  looked  perplexed  at 
these  incomprehensible  English. 

Cicely  presently  appeared.  It  was  wonderful  to 
see  how  that  one  effort  had  given  lier  dignity  and 
womanhood.  She  thanked  the  two  ambassadors  for 
the  countenance  they  had  given  to  her,  and  begged  them 
to  continue  their  exertions  in  her  mother's  cause. 
"  And,"  she  added,  "  I  believe  my  mother  has  already 
requested  of  you  to  keep  tliis  matter  a  secret." 

They  bowed,  and  she  added,  "  You  perceive,  gentle- 
men, that  the  very  conditions  I  have  offered  involve 
secrecy  both  as  to  my  mother's  future  aljode  and  my 
existence.  Therefore,  1  trust  that  you  will  not  consider 
it  inconsistent  with  your  duty  to  the  King  of  France 
to  send  no  word  of  this." 

Again  they  assured  her  of  their  secrecy,  and  the 
promise  was  so  far  kept  that  the  story  was  reserved  for 

2  N 


546  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

the  private  ear  of  Henri  III.  on  Bellievre's  return, 
and  never  put  into  the  despatches. 

Two  days  later,  Cicely  enjoyed  some  of  the  happiest 
hours  of  her  life.  She  stood  by  the  bed  where  her 
mother  was  lying,  and  was  greeted  with  the  cry,  "  My 
child,  my  child  !  I  thought  I  never  should  see  thee 
more.     Domine,  nunc  dimittis!" 

"  Nay,  dearest  mother,  but  I  trust  she  will  show 
mercy.      I  bring  you  conditions." 

Mary  laid  her  head  on  her  daughter's  shoulder  and 
listened.  It  might  be  that  she  had  too  much  experi- 
ence of  Elizabeth's  vacillations  to  entertain  much  hope 
of  her  being  allowed  to  retire  beyond  her  grasp  into  a 
foreign  convent,  and  she  declared  that  she  could  not 
endure  that  her  beloved,  devoted  child  should  wear 
away  her  life  under  Elizabeth's  jealous  eye ;  but  Cis 
put  this  aside,  saying  with  a  smile,  "  I  think  she  will 
not  be  hard  with  me.  She  will  be  no  worse  than 
my  Lady  Countess,  and  I  shall  have  a  secret  of  joy 
within  me  in  thinking  of  you  resting  among  the  good 
nuns." 

And  Mary  caught  hope  from  the  anticipations  she 
would  not  damp,  and  gave  herself  to  the  description  of 
the  peaceful  cloister  life,  reviewing  in  turn  the  nunneries 
she  had  heard  described,  and  talking  over  their  rales. 
There  would  indeed  be  as  little  liberty  as  here,  but  she 
would  live  in  the  midst  of  prayer  and  praise,  and  be  at 
rest  from  the  plots  and  plans,  the  hopes  and  fears,  of 
her  long  captivity,  and  be  at  leisure  for  penitence. 
"  For,  ah  !  my  child,  guiltless  though  I  be  of  much  that 
is  laid  to  my  charge,  thy  mother  is  a  sinful  woman,  all 
unworthy  of  what  her  brave  and  innocent  daughter  has 
dared  and  done  for  her." 

Almost  equally  precious  with  that  mother's  greeting 


XLII.]  THE  SUPPLICATION.  547 

was  the  grave  congratulating  look  of  approval  which 
Cicely  met  in  Humfrey's  eyes  when  he  had  heard  all 
from  his  father.  He  could  exult  in  her,  even  while  he 
tliought  sadly  of  the  future  which  she  had  so  bravely 
risked,  watching  over  her  from  a  distance  in  his  silent, 
self-restrained,  unselfish  devotion. 

The  Queen's  coldness  towards  Humfrey  had  mean- 
time diminished  daily,  though  he  could  not  guess 
whether  she  really  viewed  his  course  as  the  right  one,  or 
whether  she  forgave  this  as  well  as  all  other  injuries 
in  the  calm  gentle  state  into  which  she  had  come,  not 
greatly  moved  by  hope  or  fear,  content  alike  to  live 
or  die. 

Eichard,  in  much  anxiety,  was  to  remain  another 
day  or  two  at  Fotheringhay,  on  the  plea  of  his  wearied 
horses  and  of  the  Sunday  rest. 

Meantime  Mary  diligently  wrote  the  conditions, 
but  perhaps  more  to  satisfy  her  daughter  than  with 
much  hope  of  their  acceptance. 


548  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 


CHAPTER    XLIIL 

THE    WARRANT. 

**  Tea,  madam,  they  are  gone !  They  stole  away  at 
once,  and  are  far  on  the  way  to  Fotlieringliay,  with 
these  same  conditions."  So  spoke  Davison,  under- 
secretary, Walsingham  heing  still  indisposed. 

"  And  therefore  will  I  see  whether  the  Queen  of 
Scots  will  ratify  them,  ere  I  go  farther  in  the  matter," 
returned  Elizabeth. 

"  She  will  ratify  them  without  question,"  said  the 
Secretary,  ironically,  "  seeing  that  to  escape  into  the 
hands  of  one  of  your  Majesty's  enemies  is  just  what 
she  desires." 

"  She  leaves  her  daughter  as  a  pledge." 

"  Yea,  a  piece  of  tinsel  to  delude  your  Majesty." 

Elizabeth  swore  an  oath  that  there  was  truth  in 
every  word  and  gesture  of  the  maiden. 

"  The  poor  wench  may  believe  all  she  said  herself," 
said  Davison.  "  Nay,  she  is  as  mucli  deluded  as  the 
rest,  and  so  is  that  honest,  dull-pated  sailor,  Talbot.  If 
your  Majesty  will  permit  me  to  call  in  a  fellow  I  have 
here,  I  can  make  all  plain." 

"  Who  is  he  ?  You  know  I  cannot  abide  those  foul 
carrion  rascals  you  make  use  of,"  said  Elizabeth,  with 
an  air  of  disgust. 


XLIII.]  THE  WARRANT.  549 

"  This  man  is  gentleman  born.  Villain  he  may  be, 
but  there  is  naught  to  offend  your  Majesty  in  him. 
He  is  one  Langston,  a  kinsman  of  this  Talbot's ;  and 
having  once  been  a  Papist,  but  now  having  seen  the 
error  of  his  ways,  he  did  good  service  in  the  unwinding 
of  the  late  horrible  plot." 

"  Well,  if  no  other  way  will  serve  you  but  I  must 
hear  the  fellow,  have  him  in." 

A  neatly-dressed,  small,  elderly  man,  entirely  arrayed 
in  black,  was  called  in,  and  knelt  most  humbly  before 
the  Queen.  Being  bidden  to  tell  what  he  knew  re- 
specting the  lady  who  had  appeared  before  the  Queen 
the  day  before,  calling  herself  Bride  Hepburn,  he  re- 
turned for  answer  that  he  believed  it  to  be  verily  her 
name,  but  that  she  was  the  daughter  of  a  man  who  had 
fled  to  France,  andbecome  an  archer  of  the  Scottish  guard. 

He  told  how  he  had  been  at  Hull  when  the  infant 
had  been  saved  from  the  wreck,  and  brought  home  to 
Mistress  Susan  Talbot,  who  left  tlie  place  the  next  day, 
and  had,  he  understood,  bred  up  the  child  as  her  own. 
He  himself,  being  then,  as  he  confessed,  led  astray  by 
the  delusions  of  Popery,  had  nmch  commerce  witli  the 
Queen's  party,  and  had  learnt  from  some  of  the  garrison 
of  Dunfermline  that  the  child  on  board  the  lost  ship 
was  the  offspring  of  this  same  Hepburn,  and  of  one  of 
Queen  Mary's  many  namesake  kindred,  who  had  died 
in  childbirth  at  Lochleven.  And  now  Langston  pro- 
lessed  bitterly  to  regret  what  he  had  done  whei],  in 
his  disguise  at  Buxton,  he  had  made  known  to  some 
of  Mary's  suite  that  the  supposed  Cicely  I'albot  was  of 
their  country  and  kindred.  She  had  been  immediately 
made  a  great  favourite  by  the  Queen  of  Scots,  and  the 
attendants  all  knew  who  she  really  was,  tliough  she 
still  went  bv  the  name  of  Talbot.      He  imagined  that 


550  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [cHAR 

the  Queen  of  Scots,  whose  charms  were  not  so  im- 
perishable as  those  which  dazzled  his  eyes  at  this 
moment,  wanted  a  fresh  bait  for  her  victims,  since  she 
herself  was  growing  old,  and  thus  had  actually  suc- 
ceeded in  binding  Babington  to  her  service,  though 
even  then  the  girl  was  puffed  up  with  notions  of  her 
own  importance  and  had  flouted  him.  And  now,  all 
other  hope  having  vanished.  Queen  Mary's  last  and 
ablest  resource  had  been  to  possess  the  poor  maiden 
with  an  idea  of  being  actually  her  own  child,  and  then 
to  work  on  her  filial  obedience  to  offer  herself  as  a 
hostage,  whom  Mary  herself  could  without  scruple 
leave  to  her  fate,  so  soon  as  she  was  ready  to  head  an 
army  of  invaders. 

Davison  further  added  that  the  Secretary  Nau  could 
corroborate  that  Bride  Hepburn  was  known  to  the  suite 
as  a  kinswoman  of  the  Queen,  and  that  Mr.  Cavendish, 
clerk  to  Sir  Francis  Walsingliam,  knew  that  Babington 
had  been  suitor  to  the  young  lady,  and  had  crossed 
swords  with  young  Talbot  on  her  account. 

Elizabeth  listened,  and  made  no  comment  at  the 
time,  save  that  she  sharply  questioned  Langston ;  but 
his  tale  was  perfectly  coherent,  and  as  it  threw  the 
onus  of  the  deception  entirely  on  Mary,  it  did  not 
conflict  either  with  the  sincerity  evident  in  both  Cicely 
and  her  foster-father,  or  with  the  credentials  supplied 
by  the  Queen  of  Scots.  Of  the  ciphered  letter,  and  of 
the  monograms,  Elizabeth  had  never  heard,  though,  if 
she  had  asked  for  further  proof,  they  would  have  been 
brought  forward. 

She  heard  all,  dismissed  Langston,  and  with  some 
petulance  bade  Davison  likewise  begone,  being  aware 
that  her  ministers  meant  her  to  draw  the  moral  tliat 
she  had   involved  herself  in  difficulties  by  holding   a 


XLIII.]  THE  WAEEANT.  551 

private  audience  of  the  French  Ambassadors  without 
their  knowledge  or  presence.  It  may  be  that  the  very 
sense  of  liaviug  been  touched  exasperated  her  the  more. 
She  paced  up  and  down  the  room  restlessly,  and  her 
ladies  heard  her  muttering — "That  she  should  cheat 
me  thus  !  I  have  pitied  her  often  ;  I  will  pity  her  no 
more !  To  breed  up  that  poor  child  to  be  palmed  on 
me !  I  will  make  an  end  of  it ;  I  can  endure  this  no 
longer !  These  tossings  to  and  fro  are  more  than  I 
can  bear,  and  all  for  one  who  is  false,  false,  false,  false  ! 
My  brain  will  bear  no  more.  Hap  what  hap,  an  end 
must  be  made  of  it.  She  or  I,  she  or  I  must  die  ;  and 
which  is  best  for  England  and  the  faith  ?  That  girl  had 
well-nigh  made  me  pity  her,  and  it  was  all  a  vile  cheat !" 

Thus  it  was  that  Elizabeth  sent  for  Davison,  and 
bade  him  bring  the  warrant  with  him. 

And  thus  it  was  that  in  the  midst  of  dinner  in  the 
hall,  on  the  Sunday,  the  5th  of  February,  the  meiiU  of 
the  Castle  were  startled  by  the  arrival  of  Mr.  Beale, 
the  Clerk  of  the  Council,  always  a  bird  of  sinister 
omen,  and  accompanied  by  a  still  more  alarming  figure, 
a  strong  burly  man  clad  in  black  velvet  from  head  to 
foot.  Every  one  knew  who  he  was,  and  a  thrill  of 
dismay,  that  what  had  been  so  long  expected  had  come 
at  last,  went  through  all  who  saw  him  pass  through 
the  hall.  Sir  Amias  was  summoned  from  table,  and 
remained  in  conference  with  the  two  arrivals  all  through 
evening  chapel  time  —  an  event  in  itself  extraordinary 
enough  to  excite  general  anxiety.  It  was  Humfrey's 
turn  to  be  on  guard,  and  he  had  not  long  taken  his 
station  before  he  was  called  into  the  Queen's  apart- 
ments, where  she  sat  at  the  foot  of  her  bed,  in  a  large 
chair  with  a  small  table  before  her.  No  oiie  was  with 
her  but  her  two  mediciners,  Bourgoin  and  Goriou. 


552  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

"  Here,"  she  said,  "  is  the  list  our  good  Doctor  has 
writ  of  the  herbs  he  requires  for  my  threatened  attack 
of  rheumatism." 

"  I  will  endeavour,  with  Sir  Amias's  permission,  to 
seek  them  in  the  park,"  said  Humfrey. 

"  But  tell  me,"  said  Mary,  fixing  her  clear  eyes 
upon  him,  "  tell  me  truly.  Is  there  not  a  surer  and 
more  lasting  cure  for  all  my  ills  in  preparation  ?  Who 
was  it  who  arrived  to-night?" 

"  Madame,"  said  Humfrey,  bowing  his  head  low  as 
he  knelt  on  one  knee,  "  it  was  Mr.  Beale." 

"Ay,  and  who  besides  ?" 

"Madam,  I  heard  no  name,  but" — as  she  waited 
for  him  to  speak  further,  he  uttered  in  a  choked  voice 
— "  it  w^as  one  clad  in  black." 

"  I  perceive,"  said  Mary,  looking  up  with  a  smile. 
"  A  more  effectual  Doctor  than  you,  my  good  Bourgoin. 
I  thank  my  God  and  my  cousin  Elizabeth  for  giving 
me  the  martyr's  hope  at  the  close  of  the  most  mournful 
life  that  ever  woman  lived.  Nay,  leave  me  not  as 
yet,  good  Humfrey.  I  have  somewhat  to  say  unto 
thee.  I  have  a  charge  for  thee."  Something  in  her 
tone  led  him  to  look  up  earnestly  in  her  face.  "  Thou 
lovest  my  child,  I  think,"  she  added. 

The  young  man's  voice  was  scarcely  heard,  and  he 
only  said,  "Yea,  madam;"  but  there  was  an  intensity 
in  the  tone  and  eyes  which  went  to  her  heart. 

"  Thou  dost  not  speak,  but  thou  canst  do.  Wilt 
thou  take  her,  Humfrey,  and  with  her,  all  the  inherit- 
ance of  peril  and  sorrow  that  dogs  our  unhappy  race  ?" 

"  Oh  " — and  there  was  a  mighty  sob  that  almost 
cut  off  his  voice — "  My  life  is  already  hers,  and  would 
be  spent  iif  her  service  wherever,  whatever  she  was." 

"I  guessed  it,"  snid  the  Queen,  letting  her  hand  rest 


XLIII.]  THE  WARRANT.  553 

on  his  slioulder.  "  And  for  her  thou  wilt  endure,  if 
needful,  suspicion,  danger,  exile  ?" 

"  They  will  be  welcome,  so  I  may  shield  her." 

"  I  trust  thee,"  she  said,  and  she  took  his  firm 
strong  hand  into  her  own  white  wasted  one.  "  But  will 
thy  father  consent  ?     Thou  art  his  eldest  son  and  heir." 

"  He  loves  her  like  his  own  daughter.  My  brother 
ma}  have  the  lands." 

"  'Tis  strange,"  said  Mary,  "  that  in  wedding  a 
princess,  'tis  no  crown,  no  kingdom,  that  is  set  Ijefore 
thee,  only  the  loss  of  thine  own  inheritance.  For  now 
that  the  poor  child  has  made  herself  known  to  Elizabeth, 
there  will  ]je  no  safety  for  her  between  these  seas.  I 
have  considered  it  well.  I  had  tliought  of  sending 
her  abroad  with  my  French  servants,  and  making  her 
known  to  my  kindred  there.  That  would  have  been 
well  if  she  could  have  accepted  the  true  faith,  or  if — - 
if  her  heart  had  not  been  thine ;  but  to  have  sent  her 
as  she  is  would  only  expose  her  to  persecution,  and 
she  hath  not  the  mounting  spirit  that  would  cast  aside 
love  for  the  sake  of  rising.  She  lived  too  long  with 
thy  mother  to  be  aught  save  a  homely  Cis.  I  would 
have  made  a  princess  of  lier,  but  it  passes  my  powers. 
Nay,  the  question  is,  whether  it  may  yet  be  possible 
to  prevent  the  Queen  from  laying  hands  on  her." 

"  My  father  is  still  here,"  said  Humfrey,  "  and  I 
deem  not  that  any  orders  have  come  respecting  her. 
Might  not  he  crave  permission  to  take  her  home,  that 
is,  if  she  will  leave  your  Grace  ?" 

"  I  will  lay  my  commands  on  her  •  It  is  well 
thought  of,"  said  the  Queen.  "How  soon  canst  thou 
have  speech  with  him  ?" 

"  He  is  very  like  to  come  to  my  post,"  said  Humfrey, 
"  and  then  we  can  walk  the  gallery  and  talk  unheard." 


554  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

"  It  is  well.  Let  him  make  his  demand,  and  I 
will  have  her  ready  to  depart  as  early  as  may  be 
to-morrow  morn.  Bonrgoin,  I  would  ask  thee  to  call 
the  maiden  hither." 

Cicely  appeared  from  the  apartment  where  she  had 
been  sitting  with  the  other  ladies. 

"  Child,"  said  the  Queen,  as  she  came  in,  "  is  thy 
mind  set  on  wedding  an  archduke  ? " 

"  Marriage  is  not  for  me,  madam,"  said  Cicely, 
perplexed  and  shaken  by  this  strange  address  and  by 
Humfrey's  presence. 

"  Nay,  didst  not  once  tell  me  of  a  betrothal  now 
many  years  ago  ?  What  wouldst  say  if  thine  own 
mother  were  to  ratify  it  ?" 

"  Ah  !  madam,"  said  Cicely,  blushing  crimson  how- 
ever, "  but  I  pledged  myself  never  to  wed  save  with 
Queen  Elizabeth's  consent." 

"  On  one  condition,"  said  the  Queen.  "  But  if  that 
condition  were  not  observed  by  the  other  party " 

"How — what,  mother!"  exclaimed  Cicely,  with  a 
scream.  "  There  is  no  fear  —  Humfrey,  have  you 
heard  aupht  ? " 

"  Nothing  is  certain,"  said  Mary,  calmly.  "  I  ask 
thee  not  to  break  thy  word.  I  ask  thee,  if  thou  wert 
free  to  marry,  if  thou  wouldst  be  an  Austrian  or  Lor- 
raine duchess,  or  content  thee  with  an  honest  English 
youth  whose  plighted  word  is  more  precious  to  him 
than  gold." 

"0  mother,  how  can  you  ask?"  said  Cicely,  drop- 
ping down,  and  hiding  her  face  in  the  Queen's  lap. 

"  Then,  Humfrey  Talbot,  I  give  her  to  thee,  my 
child,  my  Bride  of  Scotland.  Thou  wilt  guard  her, 
and  shield  her,  and  for  thine  own  sake  as  well  as  hers, 
save  her  from  the  wrath  and  jealousy  of  Elizabeth.— 


XLIIl]  THE  WAKRANT.  555 

Hark,  hark !  Rise,  my  child.  They  are  presenting 
arms.  We  shall  have  Paulett  in  anon  to  convey  my 
rere-supper." 

They  had  only  just  time  to  compose  themselves 
before  Paulett  came  in,  looking,  as  they  all  thought, 
grimmer  and  more  starched  than  ever,  and  not  well 
pleased  to  find  Humfrey  there,  hut  the  Queen  was 
equal  to  the  occasion. 

"  Here  is  Dr.  Bourgoin's  list  of  the  herbs  that  he 
needs  to  ease  my  aches,"  she  said.  "  Master  Talbot  is 
so  good  as  to  say  that,  being  properly  instructed,  he 
will  go  in  search  of  them." 

"  They  will  not  be  needed,"  said  Paulett,  but  he 
spoke  no  farther  to  the  Queen.  Outside,  however,  he 
said  to  Humfrey,  "  Young  man,  you  do  not  well  to 
waste  the  Sabbath  evening  in  converse  with  that 
blinded  woman ; "  and  meeting  Mr.  Talbot  himself  on 
the  stair,  he  said,  "  You  are  going  in  quest  of  your 
son,  sir.  You  would  do  wisely  to  admonish  him  that 
he  will  bring  himself  into  suspicion,  if  not  worse,  by 
loitering  amid  the  snares  and  wiles  of  the  woman 
whom  wrath  is  even  now  overtaking." 

Eichard  found  his  son  pacing  the  gallery,  almost 
choked  with  agitation,  and  with  the  endeavour  to  con- 
ceal it  from  the  two  stolid,  heavy  yeomen  who  dozed 
behind  the  screen.  Not  till  he  had  reached  the  extreme 
end  did  Humfrey  master  his  voice  enough  to  utter  in 
his  father's  ear,  "  She  has  given  her  to  me  !" 

Eichard  could  not  answer  for  a  moment,  then  he 
said,  "  I  fear  me  it  will  be  thy  ruin,  Humfrey." 

"  Not  ruin  in  love  or  faithfulness,"  said  the  youth. 
"  Father,  you  know  I  should  everywhere  have  followed 
her  and  watched  over  her,  even  to  the  death,  oven  if 
she  could  never  have  been  mine." 


556  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

"  I  trow  thou  woiildst,"  said  Eicliard. 

"  Nor  would  you  have  it  otherwise — your  child, 
your  only  daughter,  to  be  left  unguarded." 

"  Nay,  I  know  not  that  I  would,"  said  Eichard. 
"  I  cannot  but  care  for  the  poor  maid  like  mine  own, 
and  I  would  not  have  thee  less  true-hearted,  Humfrey, 
even  though  it  cost  thee  thine  home,  and  us  our 
eldest  son." 

"  You  have  Diccon  and  Ned,"  said  Humfrey.  And 
then  he  told  what  had  passed,  and  his  father  observed 
that  Beale  had  evidently  no  knowledge  of  Cicely's 
conference  with  the  Queen,  and  apparently  no  orders 
to  seize  her.  It  had  oozed  out  that  a  commission  had 
been  sent  to  five  noblemen  to  come  and  superintend 
the  execution,  since  Sir  Amias  Paulett  had  again 
refused  to  let  it  take  place  without  witnesses,  and 
Eichard  undertook  to  apply  at  once  to  Sir  Amias  for 
permission  to  remove  his  daughter,  on  the  ground  of 
saving  her  tender  youth  from  the  shock. 

"  Then,"  said  he,  "  I  will  leave  a  token  at  Xottiiicc- 
ham  where  I  have  taken  her ;  whether  home  or  at 
once  to  Hull.  If  I  leave  Brown  Eoundle  at  the  inn 
for  thee,  then  come  home  ;  but  if  it  be  Wliite  Blossom, 
then  come  to  Hull.  It  will  be  best  that  thou  dost -not 
know  while  here,  and  I  cannot  go  direct  to  Hull, 
because  the  fens  at  this  season  may  not  be  fit  for 
riding.  Heatherthwayte  will  need  no  proofs  to  con- 
vince him  that  she  is  not  thy  sister,  and  can  wed  you 
at  once,  and  you  will  also  be  able  to  embark  in  case 
there  be  any  endeavour  to  arrest  her." 

"  Taking  service  in  Holland,"  said  Humfrey,  "  until 
there  may  be  safety  in  returning  to  England." 

Eichard  sighed.  The  risk  and  sacrifice  were  great, 
and  it  was  to  him  like  the  loss   of  two  children,  but 


XLIIl.]  THE  WARRANT.  557 

the  die  waa;  cast ;  Humfrey  never  could  be  other  than 
Cicely's  devoted  champion  and  guardian,  and  it  was 
better  that  it  should  be  as  her  husband.  So  he  re- 
paired to  Sir  Amias,  and  told  him  that  he  desired 
not  to  expose  his  daughter's  tender  years  and  feeble 
spirits  to  the  sight  of  the  Queen's  death,  and  claimed 
permission  to  take  her  away  with  him  the  next  day, 
saying  that  the  permission  of  the  Queen  had  already 
been  granted  through  his  son,  whom  he  would  gladly 
also  take  with  him. 

Paulett  hemmed  and  hawed.  He  thought  it  a 
great  error  in  ]\Ir.  Talbot  to  avoid  letting  his  daughter 
be  edified  by  a  spectacle  that  might  go  far  to  moderate 
the  contagion  of  intercourse  with  so  obstinate  a  Papist 
and  deceiver.  Being  of  pitiless  mould  himself,  he 
was  incapable  of  appreciating  Richard's  observation 
that  compassion  would  only  increase  her  devotion  to 
the  unfortunate  lady.  He  would  not,  or  couhl  not, 
part  with  Humfrey.  He  said  that  there  would  be 
such  a  turmoil  and  concourse  that  the  services  of  the 
captain  of  his  yeomen  would  be  indispensable,  but 
that  he  himself,  and  all  the  rest,  would  be  free  on  the 
Thursday  at  latest. 

Mr.  Talbot's  desire  to  be  away  was  a  surprise  to 
him,  for  he  was  in  difficulties  how,  even  in  that 
enormous  hall,  to  dispose  of  all  who  claimed  by  right 
or  by  favour  to  witness  what  he  called  the  tardy 
fulfilment  of  jutlgment.  Yet  though  he  thought  it  a 
weakness,  he  did  not  refusC;  and  ere  night  Mr.  Talbot 
was  able  to  send  formal  word  that  the  horses  would 
be  ready  for  Mistress  Cicely  at  break  of  day  the  next 
morning. 

The  message  was  transmitted  through  the  ladles  as 
the  Queen  sat  writing  at  her  table,  aud  she  at  once 


558  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP 

gave  orders  to  Elizabeth  Curll  to  prepare  the  cloak  bag 
Avith  necessaries  for  the  journey. 

Cicely  cried  out,  "  0  madam  my  mother,  do  not 
send  me  from  you!" 

"  There  is  no  help  for  it,  little  one.  It  is  the  only 
hope  of  safety  or  happiness  for  thee," 

"  But  I  pledged  myself  to  await  Queen  Elizabeth's 
reply  here !" 

"  She  has  replied,"  said  Mary. 

"  How  ? "  cried  Cicely.  "  Methought  your  letter 
confirming  mine  offers  had  not  yet  been  sent," 

"It  hath  not,  but  she  hath  made  known  to  me  that 
she  rejects  thy  terms,  my  poor  maid." 

"  Is  there  then  no  hope  ?"  said  the  girl,  under  her 
breath,  which  came  short  with  dismay, 

"  Hope  !  yea,"  said  Mary,  with  a  ray  of  brightness 
on  her  face,  "  but  not  earthly  hope.  That  is  over,  and 
I  am  more  at  rest  and  peace  than  I  can  remember  to 
have  been  since  I  was  a  babe  at  my  mother's  knee. 
But,  little  one,  I  must  preserve  thee  for  tliine  Humfrey 
and  for  happiness,  and  so  thou  must  be  gone  ere  the 
hounds  be  on  thy  track." 

"  Never,  mother,  I  cannot  leave  you.  You  bid  no  one 
else  to  go  !"  said  Cis,  clinging  to  her  with  a  face  bathed 
in  tears. 

"  No  one  else  is  imperilled  by  remaining  as  thy 
bold  venture  has  imperilled  thee,  my  sweet  maid. 
Think,  child,  how  fears  for  thee  would  disturb  my 
spirit,  when  I  would  fain  commune  only  wdth  Heaven. 
Seest  thou  not  that  to  lose  thy  dear  presence  for  the 
few  days  left  to  me  will  be  far  better  for  me  than  to 
be  rent  with  anxiety  for  thee,  and  it  may  be  to  see 
thee  snatched  from  me  by  these  stern,  harsh  men?" 

"  To  quit  you  now  !     It  is  unnatural !     I  cannot." 


XLIII.]  THE  WARRANT.  559 

"  You  will  go,  child.  As  Queen  and  as  mother  alike, 
I  lay  my  commands  on  you.  Let  not  the  last,  almost 
the  only  commands  I  ever  gave  thee  be  transgressed, 
and  waste  not  these  last  hours  in  a  vain  strife." 

She  spoke  with  an  authority  against  which  Cis  had 
no  appeal,  save  by  holding  her  hand  tight  and  covering 
it  with  kisses  and  tears.  Mary  presently  released  her 
hand  and  went  on  writing,  giving  her  a  little  time  to 
restrain  her  agony  of  bitter  weeping.  The  first  words 
spoken  were,  "  I  shall  not  name  thee  in  my  will,  nor 
recommend  thee  to  thy  brother.  It  would  only  bring  on 
thee  suspicion  and  danger.  Here,  however,  is  a  letter 
giving  full  evidence  of  thy  birth,  and  mentioning  the 
various  witnesses  who  can  attest  it.  I  shall  leave  the 
like  with  Melville,  but  it  will  be  for  thy  happiness  and 
safety  if  it  never  see  the  light.  Should  thy  brother 
die  witliout  heirs,  then  it  might  be  thy  duty  to  come 
forward  and  stretch  out  thy  hand  for  these  two  crowns, 
which  have  more  thorns  than  jewels  in  them.  Alas  ! 
would  that  I  could  dare  to  hope  they  miglit  be  ex- 
changed for  a  crown  of  stars !  But  lie  down  on  the 
bed,  my  bairnie.  I  have  much  still  to  do,  and  thou 
hast  a  long  journey  before  thee." 

Cicely  would  fain  have  resisted,  but  was  forced  to 
obey,  though  protesting  that  she  should  not  sleep ; 
and  she  lay  awake  for  a  long  time  watching  the  Queen 
writing,  until  unawares  slumber  overpowei  e  1  her  eyes. 
When  slie  awoke,  the  Queen  was  standing  over  her 
saying,  "  It  is  time  tliou  wert  astir,  little  one !" 

"Oh!  and  have  I  lost  all  these  hours  of  you?" 
cried  Cicely,  as  her  senses  awoke  to  the  remembrance 
of  the  situation  of  affairs.  "  Mother,  why  did  you  not 
let  me  watch  with  you  V 

Mary  only  smiled  and  kissed  her  brow.     The  time 


560  UNKNOWN  TO  IIISTOKY.  [CHAP. 

went  by  in  tlie  preparations,  in  all  of  which  the  Queen 
took  an  active  part.  Her  money  and  jewels  had 
been  restored  to  her  hy  Elizabeth's  orders  during  her 
daughter's  absence,  and  she  had  put  twenty  gold  pieces 
in  the  silken  and  pearl  purse  which  she  always  used. 
"  More  I  may  not  give  thee,"  she  said.  "  I  know  not 
whether  I  shall  be  able  to  give  my  poor  faithful  ser- 
vants enough  to  carry  them  to  their  homes.  This  thou 
must  have  to  provide  thee.  And  for  my  jewels,  they 
should  be  all  thine  by  right,  but  the  more  valuable 
ones,  which  bear  tokens,  might  only  bring  thee  under 
suspicion,  poor  child." 

She  wished  Cicely  to  choose  among  them,  but  the 
poor  girl  had  no  heart  for  choice,  aud  the  Queen  herself 
put  in  her  hand  a  small  case  containing  a  few  which 
were  unobtrusive,  yet  well  known  to  her,  and  among 
them  a  ring  with  the  Hepburn  arms,  given  by  Both- 
well.  She  also  showed  her  a  gold  chain  which  she 
meant  to  give  to  Humfrey.  In  this  manner  time 
passed,  till  a  message  came  in  that  blaster  Eichard 
Talbot  was  ready. 

"  Wlio  brought  it?"  asked  the  Queen,  and  when 
she  heard  tliat  it  was  Humfrey  himself  who  was  at  the 
door,  she  bade  him  be  called  in. 

"  Children,"  she  said,  "  we  were  interrupted  last 
nigbt.  Let  me  see  you  give  your  betrothal  kiss,  and 
bless  you." 

"  One  word,  my  mother,"  said  Cicely.  "  Humfrey 
will  not  bear  me  ill-will  if  I  say  that  while  there  can 
still  be  any  hope  that  Queen  EHzabeth  will  accept  me 
for  her  prisoner  in  your  stead,  I  neither  can  nor  ought 
to  wed  him." 

"  Thou  mayst  safely  accept  the  condition,  my  son," 
said  Mary. 


xliil]  the  warkaxt.  561 

"  Then  if  these  messengers  should  come  to  conduct 
my  mother  abroad,  and  to  take  me  as  her  hostage, 
Humfrey  will  know  where  to  find  me." 

"  Yea,  thou  art  a  good  child  to  the  last,  my  little 
one,"  said  Mary. 

"  Yo'i  promise,  Humfrey  ?"  said  Cicely. 

"  I  do,"  he  said,  knowing  as  well  as  the  Queen  how 
little  chance  there  was  that  he  would  be  called  on  to 
fulfil  it,  but  feeling  that  the  agony  of  the  parting  was 
thus  in  some  degree  softened  to  Cicely. 

Mary  gave  the  betrothal  ring  to  Humfrey,  and  she 
laid  her  hands  on  their  clasped  ones.  "  My  daugliter 
and  my  son,"  she  said,  "  I  leave  you  my  blessing.  If 
filial  love  and  unshaken  truth  can  bring  down  blessings 
from  above,  they  will  be  yours.  Think  of  your  mother 
in  times  to  come  as  one  who  hath  erred,  but  suffered 
and  repented.  If  your  Church  permits  you,  pray  often 
for  her.  Eemember,  when  you  hear  her  blamed,  that 
in  the  glare  of  courts,  she  had  none  to  breed  her  up  in 
godly  fear  and  simple  truth  like  your  good  mother  at 
Bridgefield,  but  that  she  learnt  to  think  what  you  view 
in  the  light  of  deadly  sin  as  the  mere  lawful  instru- 
ments of  government,  above  all  for  the  weaker.  Con- 
demn her  not  utterly,  but  pray,  pray  with  all  your 
hearts  that  her  God  and  Saviour  will  accept  her  peni- 
tence, and  unite  her  sufferings  with  those  of  her  Lord, 
since  He  has  done  her  the  grace  of  letting  her  die  in 
part  for  His  Churcli.  Now,"  she  added,  kissing  each 
brow,  and  then  holding  her  daughter  in  her  embrace, 
"  take  her  away,  Humfrey,  and  let  me  turn  my  soul 
from  all  earthly  loves  and  cares  1" 


20 


562  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  fCHAP. 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

ON   THE    HUMBER. 

]\Iaster  Talbot  had  done  considerately  in  arranging 
that  Cicely  should  at  least  begin  her  journey  on  a 
pillion  behind  himself,  for  her  anguish  of  suppressed 
weeping  unfitted  her  to  guide  a  horse,  and  would  have 
attracted  the  attention  of  any  serving -man  beliind 
whom  he  could  have  placed  her,  whereas  she  could  lay 
her  head  against  his  shoulder,  and  feel  a  kind  of 
dreary  repose  there. 

He  would  have  gone  by  the  more  direct  way  to  Hull, 
through  Lincoln,  but  that  he  feared  that  February  Fill- 
dyke  would  have  rendered  the  fens  impassable,  so  he 
directed  his  course  more  to  the  north-west.  Cicely  was 
silent,  crushed,  but  more  capable  of  riding  than  of 
anything  else ;  in  fact,  the  air  and  motion  seemed  to 
give  her  a  certain  relief. 

He  meant  to  halt  for  the  night  at  a  large  inn  at 
Nottingham.  There  was  much  stir  in  the  court,  and 
it  seemed  to  be  full  of  the  train  of  some  great  noble. 
Eichard  knew  not  whether  to  be  glad  or  sorry  when 
he  perceived  the  Shrewsbury  colours  and  the  silver 
mastiff  badge,  and  was  greeted  by  a  cry  of  "  Master 
Richard  of  Bridgefield!"  Two  or  three  retainers  of 
higher  degree  came  round  him  as  he   rode   into  the 


XLIV.]  ON  THE  HUMBER.  563 

yard,  and,  while  demanding  his  news,  communicated 
their  own,  that  my  Lord  was  on  his  way  to  Fotheringhay 
to  preside  at  the  execution  of  the  Queen  of  Scots. 

He  could  feel  Cicely's  shudder  as  he  lifted  her  off 
her  horse,  and  he  replied  repressively,  "  I  am  bringing 
my  daughter  from  thence." 

"  Come  in  and  see  my  Lord,"  said  the  gentleman. 
"  He  is  a  woeful  man  at  the  work  that  is  put  on  him." 

Lord  Shrewsbury  did  indeed  look  sad,  almost 
broken,  as  he  held  out  his  hand  to  Eichard,  and  said, 
"  This  is  a  piteous  errand,  cousin,  on  which  I  am 
bound.  And  thou,  my  young  kinswoman,  thou  didst 
not  succeed  with  her  Majesty  !" 

"  She  is  sick  with  grief  and  weariness,"  said 
Eichard.      "  I  would  fain  take  her  to  her  chamber." 

The  evident  intimacy  of  the  new-comers  with  so 
great  a  personage  as  my  Lord  procured  for  them  better 
accommodation  than  they  might  otherwise  have  had, 
and  Eichard  obtained  for  Cicely  a  tiny  closet  within 
the  room  where  he  was  himself  to  sleep.  He  even 
contrived  that  she  should  be  served  alone,  partly  by 
himself,  partly  by  the  hostess,  a  kind  motherly  woman, 
to  whom  he  committed  her,  while  he  supped  with  the 
Earl,  and  was  afterwards  called  into  liis  sleeping 
chamber  to  tell  him  of  his  endeavours  at  treating  with 
Lord  and  Lady  Talbot,  and  also  to  hear  his  lamenta- 
tions over  the  business  he  had  been  sent  upon.  He 
had  actiuilly  offered  to  make  over  his  office  as  Earl 
Marshal  to  Burghley  for  the  nonce,  but  as  he  said,  "  tliat 
of  all  the  nobles  in  England,  such  work  should  fall  to 
the  lot  of  him,  who  had  been  for  fourteen  years  the 
poor  lady's  host,  and  knew  her  admirable  patience  and 
sweet  conditions,  was  truly  hard." 

Moreover,  he  was  joined  in  the  commission  with 


13  04  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

the  Earl  of  Kent,  a  sour  Puritan,  wlio  would  rejoice  in 
making  lier  drink  to  the  dregs  of  the  cup  of  bitterness ! 
He  was  sick  at  heart  with  the  thought.  Eichard 
represented  that  he  w^oukl,  at  least,  be  able  to  give 
what  comfort  could  be  derived  from  mildness  and 
compassion. 

"  Xot  I,  not  I  !"  said  the  poor  man,  always  weak. 
"  Xot  with  those  harsh  yoke-fellows  Kent  and  Paulett 
to  drive  me  on,  and  that  viper  Beale  to  report  to  the 
Privy  Council  any  strain  of  mercy  as  mere  treason. 
What  can  I  do  ?" 

"  You  would  do  much,  my  Lord,  if  you  would  move 
them  to  restore — for  these  last  hours — to  her  those 
faithful  servants,  Melville  and  De  Preaux,  whom  Paulett 
hath  seen  fit  to  seclude  from  her.  It  is  rank  cruelty 
to  let  her  die  without  the  sacraments  of  her  Church, 
when  her  conscience  will  not  let  her  accept  ours." 

"  It  is  true,  Eichard,  over  true.  I  will  do  what  I 
can,  but  I  doubt  me  wliether  I  shall  prevail,  where 
Paulett  looks  on  a  Mass  as  mere  idolatry,  aud  will  not 
brook  that  it  should  be  offered  in  his  house.  But 
come  you  back  with  me,  kinsman.  We  will  send  old 
Master  Purvis  to  take  your  daughter  safely  home." 

Eichard  of  course  refused,  and  at  the  same  time, 
thinking  an  explanation  necessary  and  due  to  the  Earl, 
disclosed  to  him  that  Cicely  was  no  child  of  his,  but  a 
near  kinswoman  of  the  Scottish  Queen,  whom  it  was 
desirable  to  "place  out  of  Queen  Elizabeth's  reach  ^zi' 
the  present,  adding  that  there  had  been  love  passages 
between  her  and  his  son  Humfrey,  who  intended  to 
wed  her  and  see  some  foreign  service.  Lord  Shrews- 
bury showed  at  first  some  offence  at  having  been  kept 
in  ignorance  all  these  years  of  such  a  fact,  and 
wondered  what  his  Countess  would  say,  marvelled  too 


XLIV.]  ON  THE  HUMBER.  565 

that  his  cousin  sliould  consent  to  his  son's  throwing 
himself  away  on  a  mere  stranger,  of  perilous  connection, 
and  going  off  to  foreign  wars ;  but  the  good  nobleman 
was  a  placable  man,  and  always  considerably  influenced 
by  the  person  who  addressed  him,  and  he  ended  by 
placing  the  Mastiff  at  Eichard'a  disposal  to  take  the 
young  people  to  Scotland  or  Holland,  or  wherever  they 
might  wish  to  go. 

This  decided  ]\Ir.  Talbot  on  making  at  once  for 
the  seaport ;  and  accordingly  he  left  beliind  him  the 
horse,  which  was  to  serve  as  a  token  to  his  son  that 
such  was  his  course.  Cicely  had  been  worn  out 
with  her  day's  journey,  and  slept  late  and  sound,  so 
that  she  was  not  ready  to  leave  her  chamber  till  the 
Earl  and  his  retinue  were  gone,  and  thus  she  was 
spared  actual  contact  with  him  who  was  to  doom  her 
mother,  and  see  that  doom  carried  out.  She  was 
recruited  by  rest,  and  more  ready  to  talk  than  on  the 
previous  day,  but  she  was  greatly  disappointed  to  find 
that  she  might  not  be  taken  to  Bridgefield. 

"  If  I  could  only  be  with  Mother  Susan  for  one 
hour,"  she  sighed. 

"  Would  that  thou  couldst,  my  poor  maid,"  said 
Eichard.      "  The  mother  hath  the  trick  of  comfort." 

"  'Twas  not  comfort  I  thought  of,  None  can  give 
me  that,"  said  the  poor  girl ;  "  but  she  w^ould  teach  me 
how  to  be  a  good  wife  to  Hnmfrey." 

These  words  were  a  satisfaction  to  Eichard,  who 
had  begun  to  feel  somewhat  jealous  for  his  son's  sake, 
and  to  doubt  whether  the  girl's  affection  rose  to  the 
point  of  meeting  the  great  sacrifice  made  for  his  sake, 
though  truly  in  those  days  parents  were  not  wont  to 
be  solicitous  as  to  the  mutual  attachment  between  a 
betrothed  pair.      However,  Cicely's  absolute   resigna- 


566  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP, 

tion  of  herself  and  her  fate  into  Humfrey's  hands, 
without  even  a  question,  and  with  entire  confidence 
and  peace,  was  evidence  enough  that  her  heart  was 
entirely  his ;  nay,  had  been  his  throughout  all  the 
little  flights  of  ambition  now  so  entirely  passed  away, 
without  apparently  a  thought  on  her  part. 

It  was  on  the  Friday  forenoon,  a  day  very  unlike 
their  last  entrance  into  Hull,  that  they  again  entered 
the  old  town,  in  the  brightness  of  a  crisp  frost ;  but 
poor  Cicely  could  not  but  contrast  her  hopeful  mood 
of  November  with  her  present  overwhelming  sorrow, 
where,  however,  there  was  one  drop  of  sweetness.  Her 
foster  -  father  took  her  again  to  good  Mr.  Heather- 
thwayte's,  according  to  the  previous  invitation,  and 
was  rejoiced  to  see  that  the  joyous  welcome  of  Oil-of- 
Gladness  awoke  a  smile  ;  and  the  little  girl,  being  well 
trained  in  soberness  and  discretion,  did  not  obtrude 
upon  her  grief. 

Stern  Puritan  as  he  was,  the  minister  himself  con- 
tained his  satisfaction  that  the  Papist  woman  was  to 
die  and  never  reign  over  P^ngiand  until  he  was  out  of 
hearing  of  the  pale  maiden  who  had — strange  as  it 
seemed  to  him — loved  her  enough  to  be  almost  broken- 
hearted at  her  death. 

Eichard  saw  Goatley  and  set  him  to  prepare  the 
Mastiff  iov  an  immediate  voyage."  Her  crew,  somewhat 
like  those  of  a  few  modern  yachts,  were  permanently 
attached  to  her,  and  lived  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the 
wharf,  so  that,  under  the  jiersonal  superintendence  of 
one  who  was  as  much  loved  and  looked  up  to  as  Cap- 
tain Talbot,  all  was  soon  in  a  state  of  forwardness,  and 
Gillingham  made  himself  very  useful.  When  dark- 
ness put  a  stop  to  the  work  and  supper  was  being 
made  ready,  Eichard  found  time  to  explain  matters  to 


XLIV.]  ON  THE  HUMBEE.  567 

Mr.  Heatherthwayte,  for  Lis  honourable  mind  would 
not  permit  liim  to  ask  his  host  unawares  to  perform 
an' office  that  might  possibly  be  construed  as  treason- 
able. In  spite  of  tlie  preparation  which  he  had  already 
received  through  Colet's  communications,  the  minister's 
wonder  was  extreme.  "  Daughter  to  the  Queen  of 
Scots,  say  you,  sir !  Yonder  modest,  shamefast 
maiden,  of  such  seemly  carriage  and  gentle  speech  ?" 

Eichard  smiled  and  said— "My  good  friend,  had 
you  seen  that  poor  lady — to  whom  God  be  merciful  — 
as  I  have  done,  you  w'ould  know  that  what  is  sweetest 
in  our  Cicely's  outward  woman  is  derived  from  her; 
for  the  inner  graces,  I  cannot  but  trace  them  to  mine 
own  good  wife." 

Mr.  Heatherthwayte  seemed  at  first  hardly  to  hear 
him,  so  overpowered  was  he  with  the  notion  that  the 
daughter  of  her,  whom  he  was  in  the  habit  of  classing 
with  Athaliah  and  Herodias,  was  in  his  house,  resting 
on  the  innocent  pillow  of  Oil-of- Gladness.  He  made 
his  guest  recount  to  him  the  steps  by  which  the  dis- 
covery had  been  made,  and  at  last  seemed  to  embrace 
the  idea.  Then  he  asked  whether  Master  Talbot  were 
about  to  carry  the  young  lady  to  the  protection  of  her 
brother  in  Scotland ;  and  when  the  answer  was  that 
it  might  be  poor  protection  even  if  conferred,  and  that 
by  all  accounts  the  Court  of  Scotland  was  by  no  means 
a  place  in  which  to  leave  a  lonely  damsel  with  no 
faithful  guardian,  the  minister  asked — 

"How  then  will  you  bestow  th    maiden  ?" 

"  In  that,  sir,  I  came  to  ask  you  to  aid  me.  My 
son  Humfrey  is  following  on  our  steps,  leaving  Fother- 
inghay  so  soon  as  his  charge  there  is  ended  ;  and  I  ask  of 
you  to  wed  him  to  the  maid,  whom  we  will  then  take 
to  Holland,  when  he  will  take  service  with  the  States." 


568  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOKY.  [CHAP. 

Tlie  amazement  of  the  clergyman  was  redoubled, 
and  he  began  at  first  to  plead  with  Eicha.rd  that  a 
perilous  overleaping  ambition  was  leading  him  thus  to 
mate  his  son  with  an  evil,  though  a  royal,  race. 

At  this  Itichard  smiled  and  shook  his  head,  pointing 
out  that  the  very  last  thing  any  of  them  desired  was  that 
Cicely's  birth  should  be  known ;  and  that  even  if  it  were, 
her  mother's  marringe  was  very  questionable.  It- was 
no  ambition,  he  said,  that  actuated  his  son,  "  But  you 
saw  yourself  how,  nineteen  years  ago,  the  little  lad 
welcomed  her  as  his  little  sister  come  back  to  him 
That  love  hath  grown  up  with  him.  When,  at  fifteen 
years  old,  he  learnt  that  she  was  a  nameless  stranger, 
his  first  cry  was  that  he  would  wed  her  and  give  her 
his  name.  Never  hath  his  love  faltered ;  and  even 
when  this  misfortune  of  her  rank  was  known,  and  he 
lost  all  hope  of  gaining  her,  while  her  mother  bade  her 
renounce  him,  his  purpose  was  even  still  to  watch 
over  and  guard  her ;  and  at  the  end,  beyond  all  our 
expectations,  they  have  had  her  mother's  dying  blessing 
and  entreaty  that  he  would  take  her." 

"  Sir,  do  you  give  me  your  word  for  that  ?" 

"  Yea,  Master  Heatherthwayte,  as  I  am  a  true  man. 
Mind  you,  w^orldly  matters  look  as  different  to'  a  poor 
woman  who  knoweth  the  headsman  is  in  the  house;  as 
to  one  who  hath  her  head  on  her  dying  pillow.  This 
Queen  had  devised  plans  for  sending  our  poor  Cis 
abroad  to  her  French  and  Lorraine  kindred,  with  some 
of  the  French  ladies  of  her  train." 

"  Heaven  forbid  !"  broke  out  Heatherthwayte,  in 
horror.      "  The  rankest  of  Papists " 

'*Even  so,  and  with  recommendations  to  give  her 
in  marriage  to  some  adventurous*  prince  whom  the 
Spaniards  might  abet  in  working  woe   to  us  in  hei 


XLIV.]  ON  THE  HUMBER.  569 

name.  But  when  she  saw  how  staunch  the  child  is 
in  believing  as  mine  own  good  dame  taught  her,  she 
saw,  no  doubt,  that  this  would  be  mere  giving  her  over 
to  be  persecuted  and  mewed  in  a  convent," 

"  Then  tlie  woman  hath  some  bowels  of  mercy, 
though  a  Papist." 

"  She  even  saith  that  she  doubteth  not  tliat  such  as 
live  honestly  and  faithfully  by  the  light  that  is  in 
them  shall  be  saved.  So  when  she  saw  she  prevailed 
nothing  with  the  maid,  she  left  off  her  endeavours. 
Moreover,  my  son  not  only  saved  her  life,  but  won  her 
regard  by  his  faith  and  honour ;  and  she  called  him 
to  her,  and  even  besought  him  to  be  her  daughter's 
husband.  I  came  to  you,  reverend  sir,  as  one  who 
has  known  from  the  first  that  the  young  folk  are  no 
kin  to  one  another ;  and  as  I  think  the  peril  to  you 
is  small,  I  deemed  that  you  would  do  them  this  office. 
Otherwise,  I  must  take  her  to  Holland  and  see  them 
wedded  by  a  stranger  there." 

Mr.  Heatherthwayte  was  somewhat  touched,  but  he 
sat  and  considered,  perceiving  that  to  nuirry  the  young 
lady  to  a  loyal  Englishman  was  the  safest  way  of 
hindering  her  from  falling  into  the  clutches  of  a  Popish 
prince ;  but  he  still  demurred,  and  asked  how  Mr. 
Talbot  could  talk  of  tlie  mere  folly  of  love,  and  for  its 
sake  let  his  eldest  son  and  heir  become  a  mere  exile 
and  fugitive,  cut  off,  it  might  be,  from  home. 

"Por  that  matter,  sir,"  said  Richard,  "  my  son  is 
not  one  to  loiter  about,  as  the  lubberly  heir,  cumbering 
the  land  at  home.  He  would,  so  long  as  I  am  spared 
in  health  and  strength,  be  doing  service  by  land  or 
sea,  and  I  trust  that  by  the  time  he  is  needed  at  home, 
all  this  may  be  so  forgotten  that  Cis  may  return  safely. 
The  maid  hath  been  our  child  too  lonfi  for  us  to  risk 


570  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

her  alone.  And  for  such  love  being  weak  and  foolish, 
surely,  sir,  it  was  the  voice  of  One  greater  than  you 
or  I  that  bade  a  man  leave  bis  father  and  mother  and 
cleave  unto  his  wife." 

Mr.  Heatberthwayte  still  murmured  something  about 
"youth"  and  "  lightly  undertaken,"  and  Master  Talbot 
observed,  with  a  smile,  that  wlien  he  had  seen  Humfrey 
he  might  judge  as  to  the  lightness  of  purpose. 

Eichard  meanwhile  was  watching  somewhat  anxi- 
ously for  the  arrival  of  his  son,  who,  he  had  reckoned, 
would  make  so  much  more  speed  than  was  possible  for 
Cis,  that  he  might  have  almost  overtaken  them,  if  the 
fatal  business  had  not  been  delayed  longer  than  he 
had  seen  reason  to  anticipate.  However,  these  last 
words  had  not  long  been  out  of  his  mouth  when  a  man's 
footsteps,  eager,  yet  with  a  tired  sound  and  with  the 
clank  of  spurs,  came  along  the  paved  way  outside,  and 
there  was  a  knock  at  the  door.  Some  one  else  had 
been  watching ;  for,  as  the  street  door  was  opened. 
Cicely  sprang  forward  as  Humfrey  held  out  his  arms ; 
then,  as  she  rested  against  his  breast,  he  said,  so  that 
she  alone  could  hear,  "  Her  last  words  to  me  were, 
*  Give  her  my  love  and  blessing,  and  tell  her  my  joy 
is  come — such  joy  as  I  never  knew  before.' " 

Then  they  knew  the  deed  was  done,  and  Eichard  said, 
"  God  have  mercy  on  her  soul !"  Nor  did  Mr.  Heatber- 
thwayte rebuke  him.  Indeed  there  was  no  time,  for 
Humfrey  exclaimed,  "  She  is  swooning."  He  gathered 
her  in  his  arms,  and  carried  her  where  they  lighted 
him,  laying  her  on  Oil's  little  bed,  but  she  was  not 
entirely  unconscious,  and  rallied  her  senses  so  as  to 
give  him  a  reassuring  look,  not  quite  a  smile,  and  yet 
wondronsly  sweet,  even  in  the  eyes  of  others.  Then, 
as  the  lamp  flashed  on  his  figure,  she  sprang  to  hei 
feet,  all  else  forgotten  in  the  exclamation. 


XLIV.]  ON  THE  HUMBER.  57l 

"0  Humfrey,  tliou  art  hurt!  AVhat  is  it?  Sit 
thee  down." 

They  then  saw  that  his  face  was,  indeed,  very  pale 
and  jaded,  and  that  his  dress  was  muddied  from  head 
to  foot,  and  in  some  places  there  were  marks  of  blood  ; 
but  as  she  almost  pushed  him  down  on  the  chest 
beside  the  bed,  he  said,  in  a  voice  hoarse  and  sunk, 
betraying  weariness  ^ — - 

"  Naught,  naught,  Cis ;  only  my  beast  fell  with  me 
going  down  a  hill,  and  lamed  himself,  so  that  I  had  to 
lead  him  the  last  four  or  five  miles.  Moreover,  this 
cut  on  my  hand  must  needs  break  forth  bleeding  more 
than  I  knew  in  the  dark,  or  I  had  not  frighted  thee  by 
coming  m  such  sorry  plight;"  and  he  in  his  turn  gazed 
reassuringly  into  her  eyes  as  she  stood  over  him, 
anxiously  examining,  as  if  she  scarce  durst  trust  him, 
that  if  stiff  and  bruised  at  all,  it  mattered  not.  Then 
she  begged  a  cup  of  wine  for  him,  and  sent  Oil  for 
water  and  linen,  and  Humfrey  had  to  abandon  his 
hand  to  her,  to  be  cleansed  and  bound  up,  neither  of 
them  uttering  a  word  more  than  needful,  as  she  knelt 
by  the  chest  performing  this  work  with  skilful  hands, 
though  there  was  now  and  then  a  tremor  over  her 
whole  frame. 

"  Now,  dear  maid,"  said  Richard,  "  thou  must  let 
him  come  with  us  and  don  some  dry  garments:  then 
shalt  thou  see  him  again." 

"  Eest  and  food  —  he  needs  them,"  said  Cis,  in  a 
voice  weak  and  tremulous,  though  the  self-restraint  of 
her  princely  nature  strove  to  control  it.  "  Take  him, 
father ;  methinks  I  cannot  hear  more  to-night.  He  will 
tell  me  all  when  we  are  away  together.  I  would  be  alone, 
and  in  the  dark  ;  I  know  he  is  come,  and  you  are  caring 
for  him.      That  is  enough,  and  I  can  still  thank  God." 


572  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP 

Her  face  quivered,  and  she  turned  awaj  ;  nor  did 
Hunifrey  dare  to  shake  her  further  by  another  demon- 
stration, but  stumbled  after  his  father  to  tlie  minister's 
chamber,  wliere  some  incongruous  clerical  attire  had 
been  provided  for  him,  since  he  disdained  the  offer  of 
supping  in  bed. 

Air.  Heatherthwayte  was  much  struck  with  the 
undemonstrativeness  of  their  meeting,  for  there  was 
liigh  esteem  for  austerity  in  the  Puritan  world,  in  con- 
trast to  the  utter  want  of  self-restraint  shown  by  the 
more  secular  characters. 

When  Humfrey  presently  made  his  appearance  with 
his  father's  cloak  wrapped  over  the  minister's  clean 
shirt  and  nether  garments,  Eichard  said, 

"  Son  Humfrey,  this  good  gentleman  who  baptized 
our  Cis  would  fain  be  certain  that  there  is  no  lightness 
of  purpose  in  this  thy  design." 

"  Nay,  nay,  Mr.  Talbot,"  broke  in  the  minister,  "  I 
spake  ere  I  had  seen  this  gentleman.  From  what  I 
have  now  beheld,  I  have  no  doubts  that  be  she  who 
she  may,  it  is  a  marriage  made  and  blessed  in  heaven." 

"I  thank  you,  sir,"  said  Humfrey,  gravely;  "it  is 
my  one  hope  fulfilled." 

They  spoke  no  more  till  he  had  eaten,  for  he  was 
much  spent,  having  never  rested  more  than  a  couple  of 
liours,  and  not  slept  at  all  since  leaving  Fotheringhay. 
He  had  understood  by  the  colour  of  the  horse  left  at 
Nottingham  which  road  to  take,  and  at  the  hostel  at 
Hull  had  encountered  Gillingham,  who  directed  him  on 
to  Mr.  Heatherthwayte's. 

What  he  brought  himself  to  tell  of  the  last  scene  at 
Fotheringhay  has  been  mostly  recorded  by  history,  and 
need  not  here  be  dwelt  upon.  "When  Bourgoin  and 
Melville  fell  back,  unable   to   support  their   mistress 


XIAW]  ON  THE  HUMBER.  573 

along  the  hall  to  the  scaffold,  the  Queen  had  said  to 
liirn,  "  Thou  wilt  do  me  tins  last  service,"  and  had 
leant  on  his  arm  along  the  crowded  hall,  and  had 
taken  that  moment  to  speak  those  last  words  for 
Cicely.  She  had  blessed  James  openly,  and  declared 
her  trust  that  he  would  find  salvation  if  he  lived  well 
and  sincerely  in  the  faith  he  had  chosen.  With  him 
she  had  secretly  blessed  her  other  child. 

Humfrey  was  much  shaken  and  could  hardly  com- 
mand his  voice  to  answer  the  questions  of  Master 
Heatherthwayte,  but  he  so  replied  to  them  that,  one  by 
one,  the  phrases  and  turns  were  relinquished  which  the 
worthy  man  had  prepared  for  a  Sunday's  sermon  on 
"  Go  see  now  this  accursed  woman  and  bury  her,  for 
she  is  a  king's  daughter,"  and  he  even  began  to  con- 
sider of  choosing  for  his  text  something  that  would 
bid  his  congregation  not  to  judge  after  the  sight  of 
their  eyes,  nor  condemn  after  the  hearing  of  their  ears. 

When  Humfrey  had  eaten  and  drunk,  and  the  ruddy 
hue  was  returning  to  his  cheek,  Mr.  Heatherthwayte 
discovered  that  he  must  speak  with  his  churchwarden 
that  night.  Probably  the  pleasure  of  communicating 
the  tidings  that  the  deed  was  accomplished  added 
force  to  the  consideration  that  the  father  and  son 
would  rather  be  alone  together,  for  he  lighted  liis 
lantern  with  alacrity,  and  carried  off  Dust-and-Ashes 
with  him. 

Then  Humfrey  had  more  to  tell  which  brooked  no 
delay.  On  the  day  after  the  departure  of  his  father 
and  Cicely,  Will  Cavendish  had  arrived,  and  Humfrey 
had  been  desired  to  demand  from  the  jDrisoner  an 
immediate  audience  for  that  gentleman.  Mary  had 
said,  "  This  is  anent  the  child.  Call  him  in,  Humfrey," 
and  as  Cavendish  had  passed  the  guard  he  had  struck 


574  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOEY.  [CHAP. 

liis  old  comrade  on  the  shoulder  and  observed,  "  What 
gulls  we  have  at  Hallamshire." 

He  had  come  out  from  his  conference  fuming,  and 
desiring  to  hear  from  Humfrey  whether  he  were  aware 
of  the  imposture  that  had  been  put  on  the  Queen  and 
upon  them  all,  and  to  which  yonder  stubborn  woman 
still  chose  to  cleave — little  Cis  Talbot  supposing  her- 
self a  queen's  daughter,  and  they  all,  even  grave 
Master  Eichard,  being  duped.  It  was  too  much  for 
Will !  A  gentleman,  so  nearly  connected  with  the 
Privy  Council,  was  not  to  be  deceived  like  these  simple 
soldiers  and  sailors,  though  it  suited  Queen  Mary's 
purposes  to  declare  the  maid  to  be  in  sooth  her 
daughter,  and  to  refuse  to  disown  her.  He  supposed 
it  was  to  embroil  England  for  the  future  that  she  left 
such  a  seed  of  mischief 

And  old  Paulett  had  been  fool  enough  to  let  the 
girl  leave  the  Castle,  whereas  Cavendish's  orders  had 
been  to  be  as  secret  as  possible  lest  the  mischievous 
suspicion  of  the  existence  of  such  a  person  should 
spread,  but  to  arrest  her  and  bring  her  to  London  as 
soon  as  the  execution  should  be  over ;  when,  as  he 
said,  no  harm  would  happen  to  her  provided  she  would 
give  up  the  pretensions  with  which  she  had  been 
deceived. 

"  It  would  have  been  safer  for  you  both,"  said  poor 
Queen  Mary  to  Humfrey  afterwards,  "  if  I  had  denied 
her,  but  I  could  not  disown  my  poor  child,  or  prevent 
her  from  yet  claiming  royal  rights.  Moreover,  I  have 
learnt  enough  of  you  Talbots  to  know  that  you  would 
not  owe  your  safety  to  falsehood  from  a  dying 
woman." 

But  Will's  conceit  might  be  quite  as  effectual. 
He  was  under  orders  to  communicate  the  matter  to  no 


XLIV.]  ON  THE  HUMBER.  575 

one  not  already  aware  of  it,  and  as  above  all  things  he 
desired  to  see  the  execution  as  the  most  memorable 
spectacle  he  was  likely  to  behold  in  his  life,  and  he 
believed  Cicely  to  be  safe  at  Bridgefield,  he  thought  it 
unnecessary  to  take  an}^  farther  steps  luitil  that  should 
be  over.  Humfrey  had  listened  to  all  with  what 
countenance  he  might,  and  gave  as  little  sign  as 
possible. 

But  when  the  tragedy  had  been  consummated,  and 
he  had  seen  the  fair  head  fall,  and  himself  withdrawn 
poor  little  Bijou  from  beneath  his  dead  mistress's 
garment,  handing  him  to  Jean  Kennedy,  he  had — with 
blood  still  curdling  with  horror — gone  down  to  the 
stables,  taken  his  horse,  and  ridden  away. 

There  would  no  doubt  be  pursuit  so  soon  as  Eichard 
and  Cicely  were  found  not  to  be  at  Bridgefield ;  but 
there  was  a  space  in  which  to  act,  and  Mr.  Talbot  at 
once  said,  "  The  Mastiff  is  well-nigh  ready  to  sail.  Ye 
must  be  wedded  to-niorrow  morn,  and  go  on  board 
without  delay." 

They  judged  it  better  not  to  speak  of  this  to  the 
poor  bride  in  her  heavy  grief;  and  Humfrey,  having 
heard  from  their  little  hostess  that  Mistress  Cicely  lay 
quite  still,  and  sent  him  her  loving  greeting,  con- 
sented to  avail  himself  of  the  hospitable  minister's  own 
bed,  hoping,  as  he  confided  to  his  father,  that  very 
weariness  would  hinder  him  from  seeing  the  block, 
the  axe,  and  the  convulsed  face,  that  had  haunted  him 
on  the  only  previous  time  when  he  had  tried  to  close 
his  eyes. 

Long  before  day  Cicely  lieard  her  father's  voice 
biddiug  her  awake  and  dress  herself,  and  handing  in  a 
light.  The  call  was  welcome,  for  it  had  been  a  night  of 
strauue  dreams  and  sadder  wakeninjis  to  the  sense  "  it 


576  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

had  come  at  last" — yet  the  one  comfort,  "Humfrey  is 
near."  She  dressed  herself  in  those  plain  black  garments 
she  had  assumed  in  London,  and  in  due  time  came  down 
to  where  her  father  awaited  her.  She  was  pale,  silent, 
and  passive,  and  obeyed  mechanically  as  he  made  her 
take  a  little  food.  She  looked  about  as  if  for  some  one, 
and  he  said,  "  Humfrey  will  meet  us  anon."  Then  he 
himself  put  on  her  cloak,  hood,  and  muffler.  She  was 
like  one  in  a  dream,  never  asking  where  they  were 
going,  and  thus  they  left  the  house.  There  was  light 
from  a  waning  moon,  and  by  it  he  led  her  to  the 
church. 

It  was  a  strange  wedding  in  that  morning  moon- 
light  streaming  in  at  the  east  window  of  that  grand 
old  church,  and  casting  the  shadows  of  the  columns 
and  arches  on  tlie  floor,  only  aided  by  one  wax  light, 
which,  as  Mr.  Heatherthwayte  took  care  to  protest, 
was  not  placed  on  the  holy  table  out  of  superstition, 
but  because  he  could  not  see  without  it.  Indeed  the 
table  stood  lengthways  in  the  centre  aisle,  and  would 
have  been  bare,  even  of  a  white  cloth,  had  not  Richard 
begged  for  a  Communion  for  the  young  pair  to  speed 
them  on  their  perilous  way,  and  Mr.  Heatherthwayte — 
almost  under  protest — consented,  since  a  sea  voyage  and 
warlike  service  in  a  foreign  land  lay  before  them.  But, 
except  that  he  wore  no  surplice,  he  had  resigned  him- 
self to  Master  Eichard  on  that  most  unnatural  morning, 
and  stifled  his  inmost  sighs  when  he  had  to  pronounce 
the  name  Bride,  given,  not  by  himself,  but  by  some 
Eomisli  priest — when  the  bridegroom,  with  the  hand 
wounded  for  Queen  Mary's  sake,  gave  a  ruby  ring,  most 
unmistakably  coming  from  that  same  perilous  quarter, 
■ — and  above  all  when  the  pair  and  the  father  knelt 
in  deep  reverence.     Yet  their  devotion  was  evidently 


XLIV.]  ON  THE  HUMBER.  577 

SO  earnest  and  so  heartfelt  that  he  knew  not  how  to 
blame  it.  and  he  could  not  but  bless  them  with  his 
whole  heart  as  lie  walked  down  witli  them  to  the 
wharf.  All  were  silent,  except  that  Cicely  once 
paused  and  said  she  wanted  to  speak  to  "  Father." 
He  came  to  her  side,  and  she  took  his  arm  instead  of 
Humfrey's. 

"  Sir,"  she  said ;  "  it  has  come  to  me  that  now  my 
sweet  mother  is  left  alone  it  would  be  no  small  joy  to 
her,  and  of  great  service  to  our  good  host's  little  daughter, 
if  Oil-of-Gladness  could  take  my  place  at  home  for  a 
year  or  two." 

"None  will  do  that,  Cis;  but  there  is  much  that 
would  be  well  in  the  notion,  and  I  will  consider  of  it. 
She  is  a  maid  of  good  conditions,  and  the  mother  is 
lonesome." 

His  consideration  resulted  in  his  making  the  pro- 
posal, much  startling,  though  greatly  gratifying,  Master 
Heatherthwayte,  who  thanked  him,  talked  of  his 
honour  for  that  discreet  and  godly  woman  Mistress 
Susan,  and  said  he  must  ponder  and  pray  npon  it, 
and  would  rej)ly  when  Mr.  Talbot  returned  from  his 
voyage. 

At  the  wharf  lay  the  Mastiff's  boat  in  charge  of 
Gervas  and  Gillingham.  All  three  stepped  into  it  to- 
gether, the  most  silent  bride  and  bridegroom  perhaps  that 
the  Humber  had  ever  seen.  Only  each  of  the  three  wrung 
the  hand  of  the  good  clergyman.  At  that  moment  all 
the  bells  in  Hull  broke  forth  with  a  joyous  peal,  wliich 
by  the  association  made  the  bride  look  up  with  a  smile. 
Her  husband  forced  one  in  return  ;  but  his  father's  eyes, 
which  she  could  not  see,  filled  with  tears.  He  knew 
it  was  in  exultation  at  her  mother's  death,  and  they 
hurried  into  the  boat  lest  she  should  catch  the  purport 

2  P 


578  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CIIAP. 

of  the  shouts  that  were  beginning  to  arise  as  tlie  towns- 
folk awoke  to  the  knowledge  that  their  enemy  was 
dead. 

The  fires  of  Smithfield  were  in  the  remembrance 
of  this  generation.  The  cities  of  Flanders  were  writh- 
ing under  the  Spanish  yoke  ;  "  the  richest  spoils  of 
Mexico,  the  stoutest  hearts  of  Spain,"  were  already 
mustering  to  reduce  England  to  the  condition  of 
Antwerp  or  Haarlem ;  and  only  Elizabeth's  life  had 
seemed  to  lie  between  them  and  her  who  was  bound 
by  her  religion  to  bring  all  this  upon  the  peaceful  land. 
No  wonder  those  who  knew  not  the  tissue  of  cruel 
deceits  and  treacheries  that  had  worked  the  final  ruin 
of  the  captive,  and  believed  her  guilty  of  fearful  crimes, 
should  have  burst  forth  in  a  wild  tumult  of  joy,  such 
as  saddened  even  the  Protestant  soul  of  Mr.  Heather- 
thwayte,  as  he  turned  homewards  after  giving  his 
blessing  to  the  mournful  young  girl,  whom  the  boat 
was  bearing  over  the  muddy  waters  of  the  Hull. 

They  soon  had  her  on  board,  but  the  preparations 
were  hardly  yet  complete,  nor  could  tlie  vessel  make 
her  way  down  the  river  until  the  evening  tide.  It 
was  a  bright  clear  day,  and  a  seat  on  deck  was  arranged 
for  the  lady,  where  she  sat  with  Humfrey  beside  her, 
holding  her  cloak  round  her,  and  telling  her--— strange 
theme  for  a  bridal  day — all  he  thought  well  to  tell 
her  of  those  last  hours,  when  Mary  had  truly  shown 
herself  purified  by  her  long  patience,  and  exalted  by 
the  hope  that  her  death  had  in  it  somewhat  of  mar- 
tyrdom. 

His  father  meantime  superintended  the  work  of 
the  crew,  being  extremely  anxious  to  lose  no  time,  and 
to  sail  before  night.  Mr.  Heatherthwayte's  anxiety 
brought  him  on  board   again,  for   he  wanted  to  ask 


XLIV.]  ON  THE  HQMBER.  579 

more  questions  about  the  Bridgefield  doings  ere  begin- 
ning his  ponderings  and  his  prayers  respecting  his 
decision  for  his  little  daughter;  nor  had  he  taken  his 
final  leave  when  the  anchor  was  at  length  weighed, 
and  the  ship  had  passed  by  the  strange  old  gables, 
timbered  houses,  and  open  lofts,  that  bounded  the  har- 
bour out  from  the  Hull  river  into  the  Humber  itself, 
while  both  the  Talbots  breathed  more  freely ;  but  as 
the  chill  air  of  evening  made  itself  felt,  they  persuaded 
Cicely  to  let  her  husband  take  her  down  to  her 
cabin. 

It  was  at  this  moment,  in  the  deepening  twilight, 
that  the  ship  was  hailed,  and  a  boat  came  alongside, 
and  there  was  a  summons,  "  In  tlie  Queen's  name," 
and  a  slightly  made  lean  figure  in  black  came  up  the 
side.  He  was  accompanied  by  a  stout  man,  apparently 
a  constable.  There  was  a  moment's  pause,  then  the 
new-comer  said,  "  Kinsman  Talbot " 

"  I  count  no  kindred  with  betrayers,  Cuthbert 
Langston,"  said  Eichard,  drawing  himself  up  with 
folded  arms. 

"  Scorn  me  not,  Eichard  Talbot,"  was  the  reply  ; 
"  you  stood  my  friend  once  when  none  other  did  so, 
and  for  that  cause  have  I  hindered  much  hurt  to  you 
and  yours.  But  for  me  you  had  been  in  a  London 
jail  for  these  three  weeks  past.  Nor  do  I  come  to  do 
you  evil  now.  Give  up  the  wench,  and  your  name 
shall  never  be  brought  forward,  since  the  matter  is  to 
be  private.  Behold  a  warrant  from  the  Council  em- 
powering me  to  bring  before  them  the  person  of  Bride 
Hepburn,  otherwise  called  Cicely  Talbot." 

"  Man  of  treacheries  and  violence,"  said  Mr. 
Heatherthwayte,  standing  forward,  an  imposing  figure 
in  his  full  black  gown  and  white  ruff,  "  go  back  !    The 


580  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

lady  is  not  for  thy  double-dealing,  nor  is  there  now 
any  such  person  as  either  Bride  Hepburn  or  Cicely 
Talbot." 

"  I  cry  you  mercy,"  sneered  Langston.  "  I  see 
how  it  is  !  I  shall  have  to  bear  your  reverence  like- 
wise away  for  a  treasonable  act  in  performing  the 
office  of  matrimony  for  a  person  of  royal  blood  with- 
out consent  of  the  Queen.  And  your  reverence  knows 
the  penalty." 

At  that  instant  there  rang  from  the  forecastle  a 
never-to-be-forgotten  howl  of  triumphant  hatred  and 
fury,  and  with  a  spring  like  that  of  a  tiger,  Gillingham 
bounded  upon  him  with  a  shout,  "  Remember  Babing- 
ton  !"  and  grappled  with  him,  dragging  him  backwards 
to  the  bulwark.  Richard  and  the  constal)le  both  tried 
to  seize  the  fiercely  struggling  forms,  but  in  vain. 
They  w^ere  over  the  side  in  a  moment,  and  there  was 
a  heavy  splash  into  the  muddy  waters  of  the  Humber, 
thick  with  the  downcome  of  swollen  rivers,  thrown 
back  by  the  flowing  tide. 

Humfrey  came  dashing  up  from  below,  demanding 
who  was  overboard,  and  ready  to  leap  to  the  rescue 
wherever  any  should  point  jn  the  darkness,  but  his 
father  withheld  him,  nor,  indeed,  was  there  sound  or 
eddy  to  be  perceived. 

"  It  is  the  manifest  judgment  of  God,"  said  Mr. 
Heatherthwayte,  in  a  low,  awe-stricken  voice. 

But  the  constable  cried  aloud  that  a  murder  had 
been  done  in  resisting  the  Queen's  w^arrant. 

With  a  ready  gesture  the  minister  made  Humfrey 
understand  that  he  must  keep  his  wife  in  the  cabin, 
and  Richard  at  the  same  time  called  Mr.  Heather- 
thwayte and  all  present  to  witness  that,  murder  as  it 
undoubtedly   was,  it  had   not  been   in  resisting  the 


XLIV.]  ON  THE  HUMBER.  581 

Queen's  waiTant,  but  in  private  revenge  of  the  servant, 
Harry  Gillingham,  for  his  master  Babington,  whom  he 
believed  to  have  been  betrayed  1  y  this  gentleman. 

It  appeared  that  the  constable  kne%y  neither  the 
name  of  the  gentleman  nor  whom  the  warrant  men- 
tioned. He  had  only  been  summoned  in  the  Queen's 
name  to  come  on  board  the  Mastiff  to  assist  in  secur- 
ing the  person  of  a  young  gentlewoman,  but  who  she 
was,  or  why  she  was  to  be  arrested,  the  man  did  not 
know.  He  saw  no  lady  on  deck,  and  he  was  by  no 
means  disposed  to  make  any  search,  and  the  presence  of 
Master  Heatherthwayte  likewise  impressed  him  much 
with  the  belief  that  all  was  riglit  with  the  gentlemen. 

Of  course  it  would  have  been  liis  duty  to  detain 
the  Mastiff  for  an  inquiry  into  the  matter,  but  the 
poor  man  was  extremely  ill  at  ease  in  the  vessel  and 
among  the  retainers  of  my  Lord  of  Slirewsbury ;  and 
in  point  of  fact,  they  might  all  have  been  concerned  in 
a  crime  of  much  deeper  dye  without  his  venturing  to 
interfere.  He  saw  no  one  to  arrest,  the  warrant  was 
lost,  the  murderer  was  dead,  and  he  was  thankful 
enough  to  be  returned  to  his  boat  witli  Master  Eichard 
Talbot's  assurance  that  it  was  probable  that  no  inquiry 
would  be  made,  but  that  if  it  were,  the  pilot  would  be 
there  to  bear  witness  of  his  innocence,  and  that  he 
himself  sliould  return  in  a  month  at  latest  with  the 
Mastiff. 

IMaster  Heatherthwayte  consoled  the  constable 
further  by  saying  he  would  return  in  his  boat,  and 
speak  for  him  if  there  were  any  inquiry  after  the 
other  passenger. 

"  I  must  speak  my  farewells  here,"  he  said,  "  and 
trust  we  shall  have  no  coil  to  meet  you  on  your 
return,  Master  Eichard." 


582  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTOEY.  [CHAP. 

"  But  for  her,"  said  Humfrey,  "  I  could  not  let  my 
father  face  it  alone.     When  she  is  in  safety  " 

"  Tush,  lad,"  said  his  father,  "  such  plotters  as 
yonder  poor  wretch  had  become  are  not  such  choice 
prizes  as  to  be  inquired  for.  Men  are  only  too  glad 
to  be  rid  of  them  when  their  foul  work  is  done. 

"  So  farewell,  good  Master  Heatherthwayte,"  added 
Humfrey,  "  with  thanks  for  this  day's  work.  I  have 
read  of  good  and  evil  geniuses  or  angels,  be  they  which 
they  may,  haunting  us  for  life,  and  striving  for  the 
mastery.  Methinks  my  Cis  hath  found  both  on  the 
same  Huniber  wliich  brought  her  to  us." 

"Nay,  go  not  fortli  with  Pagan  nor  Popish  follies 
on  thy  tongue,  young  man,"  said  Heatherthwayte, 
"  but  rather  pray  that  the  blessing  of  the  Holy  One, 
the  God  of  Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Jacob,  the  God  of  thy 
father,  may  be  with  thee  and  thine  in  this  strange 
land,  and  bring  thee  safely  back  in  His  own  time.  And 
surely  He  will  bless  the  faithful." 

And  Eichard  Talbot  said  Amen. 


XLV.]  TEK  YEARS  AFTEB.  583 


CHAPTER    XLV. 

TEN  YEARS  AFTER. 

It  was  ten  years  later  in  the  reign  of  Elizabeth, 
when  James  VI.  was  under  one  of  his  many  eclipses 
of  favour,  and  when  the  united  English  and  Dutch 
fleets  had  been  performing  gallant  exploits  at  Cadiz  and 
Tercera,  that  license  for  a  few  weeks'  absence  was 
requested  for  one  of  the  lieutenants  in  her  Majesty's 
guard,  Master  Eicbard  Talbot. 

"And  wherefore?"  demanded  the  royal  lady  of 
Sir  Walter  Ealeigh,  the  captain  of  her  guard,  who 
made  the  request. 

"  To  go  to  the  Hague  to  look  after  his  brother's 
widow  and  estate,  so  please  your  Majesty ;  more's  the 
pity,"  said  Ealeigh. 

"His  brother's  widow?"  repeated  the  Queen. 

"  Yea,  madam.  For  it  may  be  feared  that  young 
Humfrey  Talbot- — I  know  not  whetlier  your  Majesty 
ever  saw  him — but  he  was  my  brave  brother  Humfrey 
Gilbert's  godson,  and  sailed  with  us  to  the  West  some 
sixteen  years  back.  He  was  as  gallant  a  sailor  as  ever 
trod  a  deck,  and  I  never  could  see  why  be  thought  fit 
to  take  service  with  the  States.  But  he  did  good  work 
in  the  time  of  the  Armada,  and  I  saw  him  one  of  the 
foremost  in  the  attack  on  Cadiz.  Nay,  he  was  one  of 
those  knighted  by  my  Lord  of  Essex  in  the  market- 


584  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

place.  Then  he  sailed  with  my  Lord  of  Cumberland 
for  the  Azores,  now  six  months  since,  and  hath  not 
since  been  heard  of,  as  his  brother  tells  me,  and  there- 
fore doth  Talbot  request  this  favour  of  your  Majesty." 

"  Send  the  young  man  to  me,"  returned  the 
Queen. 

Uiccon,  to  give  him  liis  old  name,  was  not  quite  so 
unsophisticated  as  when  his  father  had  first  left  him 
in  London.  Though  a  good  deal  shocked  by  wl.at  a 
new  arrival  from  Holland  had  just  told  him  of  the 
hopelessness  of  ever  seeing  the  Ark  of  Fortune  and  her 
captain  again,  he  was  not  so  overpowered  with  grief  as 
to  prevent  him  from  being  full  of  excitement  and 
gratification  at  the  honour  of  an  interview  with  the 
Queen,  and  he  arranged  his  rich  scarlet  and  gold  attire 
so  as  to  set  himself  off  to  the  best  advantage,  that  so 
he  might  be  pronounced  "  a  proper  man." 

Queen  Elizabeth  was  now  some  years  over  sixty, 
and  her  nose  and  cliin  began  to  meet,  but  otherwise 
she  was  as  well  preserved  as  ever,  and  quite  as  alert 
and  dignified.  To  his  increased  surprise,  she  was 
alone,  and  as  she  was  becoming  a  little  deaf,  she  made 
him  kneel  very  near  her  chair. 

"  So,  Master  Talbot,"  she  said,  "you  are  the  son  of 
Eichard  Talbot  of  Bridgefield." 

"  An  it  so  please  your  Majesty." 

"  And  you  request  license  from  us  to  go  to  the 
Hague  ?" 

"An  it  so  please  your  Majesty,"  repeated  Diccon, 
wondering  what  was  coming  next;  and  as  she  paused 
for  him  to  continue — "  There  are  grave  rumours  and 
great  fears  for  my  brother's  ship — he  being  in  the 
Dutch  service — and  I  would  fain  learn  the  truth  and 
see  what  may  be  done  for  his  wife." 


XLV.]  TEN  YEARS  AFTER.  585 

"Who  is  his  wife  ?"  demanded  the  Queen,  fixing 
her  keen  glittering  eyes  on  him,  but  he  replied  with 
readiness. 

"  She  was  an  orphan  brought  up  by  my  father  and 
mother." 

"  Young  man,  speak  plainly.  No  tampering  serves 
heis.  She  is  the  wench  who  came  hither  to  plead  for 
the  Queen  of  Scots." 

"  Yea,  madam,"  said  Diccon,  seeing  that  direct 
answers  were  required. 

"  Tell  me  truly,"  continued  the  Queen.  "  On  your 
duty  to  your  Queen,  is  she  w^hat  she  called  herself?" 

"  To  the  best  of  my  belief  she  is,  madam,"  he 
answered. 

"  Look  you,  sir,  Cavendish  brought  back  word  that 
it  was  all  an  ingenious  figment  whicli  had  deceived 
your  father,  mother,  and  the  maid  herself — and  no 
wonder,  since  the  Queen  of  Scots  persisted  therein  to 
the  last." 

"  Yea,  madam,  but  my  mother  still  keeps  absolute 
proofs  in  the  garments  and  the  letter  that  were  found 
on  the  child  when  recovered  from  the  wreck.  I  had 
never  known  that  she  was  not  my  sister  till  her 
journey  to  London ;  and  when  next  I  went  to  the 
north  my  mother  told  me  the  whole  truth." 

"  I  pray,  then,  how  suits  it  with  the  boasted  loyalty 
of  your  house  that  this  brother  of  yours  should  have 
wedded  the  maid  ?" 

"  Madam  ;  it  was  not  prudent,  but  he  had  never  a 
tliought  save  for  her  throughout  his  life.  Her  mother 
committed  her  to  him,  and  holding  the  matter  a  deep  and 
dead  secret,  he  thought  to  do  your  Majesty  no  wrong 
by  the  marriage.      If  he  erred,  be  merciful,  madam." 

"  Pah  !  foolish  youth,  to  whom  should  I  be  merciful 


586  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

since  the  man  is  dead  ?  No  doubt  he  hath  left  half  a 
score  of  children  to  be  puffed  up  with  the  wind  of 
their  royal  extraction." 

"  Not  one,  madam.  When  last  I  heard  they  were 
still  childless." 

"  And  now  you  are  on  your  way  to  take  on  you 
the  cheering  of  your  sister-in-law,  the  widow,"  said  the 
Queen,  and  as  Diccon  made  a  gesture  of  assent,  she 
stretched  out  her  hand  and  drew  him  nearer.  "  She 
is  then  alone  in  the  world.  She  is  my  kinswoman,  if 
so  be  slie  is  all  she  calls  herself.  Now,  Master  Talbot, 
go  not  open-mouthed  about  your  work,  but  tell  this 
lady  that  if  she  can  prove  her  kindred  to  me,  and 
bring  evidence  of  her  birth  at  Lochleven,  I  will 
welcome  her  here,  treat  her  as  my  cousin  the  Princess 
of  Scotland,  and,  it  may  be,  put  her  on  her  way  to 
higher  preferment,  so  she  prove  herself  worthy  thereof. 
You  take  me,  sir  ? " 

Diccon  did  take  in  the  situation.  He  had  under- 
stood how  Cavendish,  partly  blinded  by  Langston, 
partly  unwilling  to  believe  in  any  competitor  who 
would  be  nearer  the  throne  than  his  niece  Arabella 
Stewart,  and  partly  disconcerted  by  Langston's  dis- 
appearance, had  made  such  a  report  to  the  Queen  and 
the  French  Ambassador,  that  they  had  thought  that  the 
whole  matter  was  an  imposture,  and  had  been  so 
ashamed  of  their  acquiescence  as  to  obliterate  all 
record  of  it.  But  the  Queen's  mind  had  since  recurred 
to  the  matter,  and  as  in  these  later  years  of  her  reign 
one  of  her  constant  desires  was  to  hinder  James  from 
making  too  sure  of  the  succession,  she  was  evidently 
willing  to  play  his  sister  off  against  him. 

Nay,  in  the  general  uncertainty,  dreams  came  over 
Diccon  of  possible  royal  honours  to  Queen   Bridget ; 


XLV.]  TEN  YEARS  AFTER.  587 

and  then  what  glories  would  be  reflected  on  the  house 
of  Talbot !  His  father  and  mother  were  too  old,  no 
doubt,  to  bask  in  the  sunshine  of  the  Court,  and  Ned — • 
pity  that  he  was  a  clergyman,  and  had  done  so  dull  a 
thing  as  marry  that  little  pupil  of  his  mother's,  Leetitia, 
as  he  had  rendered  her  Puritan  name.  But  he  might  be 
made  a  bishop,  and  his  mother's  scholar  would  always 
become  any  station.  And  for  Diccon  himself — assur- 
edly the  Mastiff  race  would  rejoice  in  a  new  coronet ! 

Seven  weeks  later,  Diccon  was  back  again,  and  was 
once  more  summoned  to  the  Queen's  apartment.  He 
looked  crestfallen,  and  she  began, — 

"  Well,  sir  ?      Have  you  brought  the  lady  ? " 

"  Not  so,  r.n  't  please  your  Majesty." 

"  And  wherefore  ?  Fears  she  to  come,  or  has  she 
sent  no  message  nor  letter  ?" 

"  She  sends  her  deep  and  humble  thanks,  madam,  for 
the  honour  your  Majesty  intended  her,  but  she " 

"  How  now  ?  Is  she  too  great  a  fool  to  accept  of 
it?" 

"Yea,  madam.  She  prays  your  Grace  to  leave  her 
in  her  obscurity  at  the  Hague." 

Elizabeth  made  a  sound  of  utter  amazement  and 
incredulity,  and  then  said,  "  This  is  new  madness ! 
Come,  young  man,  tell  me  all !  This  is  as  good  and 
new  as  ever  was  play.  Let  me  hear.  What  like  is 
she  ?    And  what  is  her  house  to  be  preferred  to  mine  ?" 

Diccon  saw  his  cue,  and  began  — 

"  Her  house,  madam,  is  one  of  those  tall  Dutch 
mansions  with  high  roof,  and  many  small  windows 
therein,  with  a  stoop  or  broad  flight  of  steps  below,  on 
the  banks  of  a  broad  and  pleasant  canal,  shaded  with 
fine  elm-trees.  There  I  found  her  on  the  stoop,  in  the 
shade,  with  two  or  three  children  round  her;  for  she 


588  UNKNOWN  TO  HISTORY.  [CHAP. 

is  a  mother  to  all  the  English  orphans  there,  and  they 
are  but  too  many.  They  bring  them  to  her  as  a  matter 
of  course  when  their  parents  die,  and  slie  keeps  them 
till  their  kindred  in  England  claim  tliem.  Madam, 
]ier  queenliness  of  port  hath  gained  on  her.  Had  she 
come,  she  would  not  have  shamed  your  JMajesty ;  and 
it  seems  that,  none  knowing  her  true  birth,  she  is  yet 
well-nigh  a  princess  among  the  many  wives  of  officers 
and  merchants  who  dwell  at  the  Hague,  and  doubly  so 
among  the  men,  to  whom  she  and  her  husband  have 
never  failed  to  do  a  kindness.  Well,  madam,  I  weary 
you.  Slie  greeted  me  as  the  tender  sister  she  has  ever 
been,  but  she  would  not  brook  to  hear  of  fears  or  com- 
passion for  my  brother.  She  would  listen  to  no  word  of 
doubt  that  he  was  safe,  but  kept  the  whole  household  in 
perfect  readiness  for  him  to  come.  At  last  1  spake 
your  Majesty's  gracious  messnge ;  and,  madam,  pardon 
me,  but  all  I  got  was  a  souui  rating,  that  I  should 
think  any  hope  of  royal  splendour  or  preferment  should 
draw  her  from  waiting  for  Humfrey.  Ay,  she  knew 
he  would  come !  And  if  not,  she  would  never  be 
more  than  his  faithful  widow.  Had  he  not  given  up 
all  for  lier  ?  Should  she  fail  in  patience  because  his 
ship  tarried  awhile  ?  No ;  he  should  find  her  ready 
— in  his  home  that  he  had  made  for  her." 

"  Why,  this  is  as  good  as  the  Globe  Theatre  !"  cried 
the  Queen,  but  with  a  tear  glittering  in  her  eye. 

"Your  Majesty  would  have  said  so  truly,"  said 
Diccon ;  "for  as  I  sat  at  eveni  ig,  striving  hard  to 
make  her  give  over  these  fantastic  notions  and  consult 
her  true  interest,  behold  she  gave  a  cry — '  'Tis  his 
foot !'  Yea,  and  verily  there  was  Humfrey,  brown  as 
a  berry,  having  been  so  far  with  his  mate  as  to  the 
very  mouth  of  the  Eiver  Plate.      He  had,  indeed,  lost 


XLV.]  TEN  YEARS  AFTEK.  589 

his  Ark  of  Fortune,  but  he  has  come  home  with 
a  carrack  that  quadruples  her  burthen,  and  with  a 
thousand  bars  of  silver  in  her  hold.  And  then, 
madam,  the  joy,  the  kisses,  the  embraces,  and  even 
more — the  look  of  perfect  content,  and  peace,  and 
trust,  were  enough  to  make  a  bachelor  long  for  a 
wife." 

"Long  to  be  a  fool !"  broke  out  the  Queen  sharj)ly. 
"  Look  you,  lad :  tliere  may  be  such  couples  as  tliis 
Humfrey  and — what  call  you  her? — here  and  there." 

"  My  father  and  mother  are  such." 

"  Yea,  saucy  cockerel  as  you  are ;  but  for  one 
such,  there  are  a  hundred  others  who  fret  the  yoke, 
and  long  to  be  free !  Ay,  and  this  brother  of  thine, 
what  hath  he  got  with  this  wife  of  his  but  banishment 
and  dread  of  his  own  land  ?" 

"  Even  so,  madam ;  but  they  still  count  all  they 
either  could  have  had  or  hoped  for,  nought  in  com- 
parison with  their  love  to  one  another." 

"After  ten  years  !  Ha !  They  are  no  subjects  for 
this  real  world  of  ours ;  are  they  not  rather  swains  in 
my  poor  Philip  Sidney's  Arcadia  ?  No,  no ;  'twere 
pity  to  meddle  with  them.  Leave  them  to  their  Dutch 
household  and  their  carracks.  Let  them  keep  their 
own  secret ;  I'll  meddle  in  the  matter  no  more." 

And  so,  though  after  Elizabeth's  death  and  James's 
accession,  Sir  Humfrey  and  Lady  Talbot  gladdened  the 
eyes  of  the  loving  and  venerable  pair  at  Bridgefield, 
the  Princess  Bride  of  Scotland  still  remained  in  happy 
obscurity,  "  Unknowu  to  History." 


THE    END. 


CHARLOTTE  M.  YONGE'S 

Novels  and  Tales. 

New  Uniform  Illustrated  Edition. 


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UNKNOWN  to  HISTORY. 

The  HEIR  of    REDCLYFFE. 

HEARTSEASE. 

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HOPES  AND  FEARS. 

DYNEVOR  TERRACE. 

CLEVER  WOMAN  of  the  FAMILY. 

The  YOUNG  STEPMOTHER. 

The  DOVE  in  the  EAGLE'S  NEST. 

The  CAGED  LION. 

The  CHAPLET  of  PEARLS. 

LADY   HESTER;    or,   Ursula's    Narrative,    and 

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The  THREE  BRIDES. 
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WOMANKIND. 

MAGNUM  BONUM ;  or.  Mother  Carey's  Brood. 
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CHARLES  KINGSLEY'S  WORKS,  Continued. 
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Santa  Barbara 


THIS  BOOK  IS  Dl  E  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW. 


lOOM  11/86  Series  9482 


3  1205  01041  7036 


